Devotion
by Sarah the Boring
Summary: Vincent's memories of Nibelheim, from Lucrecia's POV. A bit of romance, a bit of creepy J-Project doings, a lot of weird psychological twists. Now complete.
1. Prologue - Lurking in the Darkness

This story is now finished! Thanks to all who have commented.

**"Devotion"  
a Final Fantasy VII fan fiction**  
by Sarah the Boring  


Final Fantasy, names, characters, et cetera copyright Square Soft, Inc. The story itself is the property of the author.

  
  


**Prologue: _Lurking in the Darkness_**

  


He had always hated the sound of his own name.

It had a rasping, hissing sound; spoken by the lazy, slurring tongues of his slum-dwelling kin, it dropped one of its syllables and became a rattling cough. _Horace. Hor'ss._ It was most often screamed--the idiots never spoke, they always yelled--and this also added to the layers of banality and ugliness around the word.

But over time he grew to ignore it. It was, after all, just a word. It signified nothing.

Most likely it was due to the frame of reference in which he learned it. The rabble from which he had been born was loud and grim, though, he admitted once to himself, not necessarily stupid. However, long years of mind-numbing monotony and hardship had sunk their intelligence into a bitter state of suspension, a coma of uncaring scorn.

But he learned differently, and that was what saved him. He picked up their bitterness, their scorn, their resentment and greed, but he kept his intelligence alive. He kept that very much alive.

Everything else died, more or less. It was not necessary.

* * *

  


It was not difficult to get away from them, not with his intelligence and planning. Eighty-five percent of it was work, studying and memorizing, easy things that filled up the endless yawn of time from fall to spring. Fifteen percent was planning, a few cheated tests, a few falsified applications. Once he had the satisfaction of actually taking on a project, during his last year of graduate school--aside from the project on which he wrote his thesis, that was interesting but ultimately unsatisfying. He took on a better project than that.

There was an insolent fool in the department, also a fourth-year student, some rich brat with perfect everything, it seemed--perfect test scores, perfect looks, perfect ethics, perfect life. It wasn't hard to bring him down, really. All it took was a few months of observation, finding the man's weak spots--and then a few suggestions, rumors, lies... and enough time for the fool to crumble into a neurotic wreck.

Simple.

  
  
  


The real work of his life began only after he'd published that faintly controversial yet unmistakably brilliant thesis and _almost_ ascended to his rightful position. All that stood between him and the peak of his scientific career for those long years was the famous Dr. Gast, venerable, wise, and damnably ethical. The man was also highly intelligent, Horace admitted. And for this reason only he served under Gast's command for years with little dissent.

His reputation was made during Gast's years, though. As vice-chair of the Research Department it was his duty to review many of the underlings' projects and paperwork, and he quickly instated himself as a tyrant and skilled crusher of spirits. The grad students and younger scientists walked in fear of him, always a delight to see, but they also nervously--at least he thought it was nervously--mocked him as well. Though, out of these mockeries, he plucked his new name.

It was something as mundane as paperwork, really, that started it. He reviewed the underlings' proposals and applications critically, and signed each one with only one comment, passing or failing the young hopefuls: **_Accepted, Horace Jones. Denied, Horace Jones._** His handwriting, dark, scrawled, and nearly illegible, became a favorite jest among the underlings. They could read only enough to get the idea: **_A~~~~, Ho~~~ Jo~~~. D~~~~, Ho~~~ Jo~~~._** They started calling him that behind his back, the only part of his signature that they could read. "Another denied from Hojo." They thought it was secret, but he knew. He knew everything. He liked the name, actually, with a perverse kind of pride: short, yet powerful, he thought. It was an unhuman name, unique, un-prosaic, family-less, meaningless.

_Hojo._

  



	2. 1.1 - The Overseer

Part 1: _Earthly/Unearthly_

  


1-1. Overseer

The young woman could barely contain her excitement as she leapt up the stairs of the country inn for the first time. She dumped her suitcase and her heavy backpack--stuffed with thick bound notebooks and textbooks in cellular biology, protein analysis, genetics--on the floor by the table and ran back out to collect the next armful of baggage. At the head of the stairs she almost crashed into a tall man carrying a load of luggage, and leapt back, stammering apologies. The man glanced at her and nodded curtly in acknowledgement. He had short blond hair, a broad face, and wore a dark blue suit. The student hesitated for an instant, unsure what to say, until an unmistakable nasal voice cut through the awkward pause.

"Get moving, you thick-necked wretch! I don't have all day!"

"Yessir," the man in the blue suit muttered, and strode past her toward one of the other rooms of the inn.

Behind him a smaller figure scuttled out from the top of the staircase, a man with short, slick dark hair, clad in a dingy white lab coat despite the heat of the day. He regarded the girl with scornful eyes, then demanded, "Who are you? One of the students?"

"Y-yes, sir. I'm--"

"--apparently not smart enough to get out of the way when your superiors pass by. Gast must have brought you."

She chose to ignore the insult for now, though her anger flared up silently. "Yes, sir. I'm from the genetics division."

"How many of you little twerps did Gast bring?"

"Two, sir. I'm covering Genetics and Cell, and there's another grad student, from Chemistry."

"We don't need Chemistry."

"But Dr. Gast thought we might--"

"_We don't need Chemistry,_" the man repeated harshly. "I will be assuming any research that might come up in that area."

"Sir--"

"Shut up!" the man barked. "Do _not_ question my judgments!"

The student said nothing, shocked and irritated. She was under no direct order of his, technically; she had been selected by the department and by Dr. Gast. But it would not be good for her career to make an enemy out of Gast's associate.

Daring to stare back into the man's slitted eyes, she realized that that decision may have been a little too late. The only thing she could think of to do was to go about her way. "Sir, if you'll excuse me." She nodded her head courteously and passed him, toward the stairs.

His voice froze her as she stepped on the third stair. "What is your name, girl?"

She turned, with perfect politeness, toward him and answered, "Lucrecia, sir."

"Do you have a last name, Lucrecia Sir?" the man asked sardonically, now able to look down his nose at her.

"Gainsborough."

The man in the lab coat turned toward his room, following the blue-suited man who had passed by before. "Good afternoon, Miss Gainsborough," he tossed over his shoulder.

"Good afternoon, Dr. Hojo."

Lucrecia glared at his retreating back for a moment, then turned and continued down the stairs. She couldn't let him distract her. She had far more important things to do than to deal with that arrogant weasel.

  



	3. 1.2 - The Turk

1-2. The Turk

While the three of them were moved into the inn--Lucrecia, Hojo, and Dr. Gast--the second grad student was reunited with his parents, who lived on the outskirts of Nibelheim and hadn't seen him since he left for college in Midgar. Apparently their catching-up ran late, for he hadn't returned when Dr. Gast decided to tour the Shinra Mansion for the first time.

"Shelan can take a look around later," Dr. Gast explained to Lucrecia as they left the inn. "He knows the town already. And it's not as if we'll be leaving any time soon."

"If waiting for the boy hadn't held us up for half an hour," Hojo remarked, uninvited, from behind them, "we may have been able to leave that much sooner."

"And if you hadn't commented, we could have left ten seconds sooner, Hojo," replied Dr. Gast dryly. "I imagine I've lost a good three and a half years of my life by now, working with you."

Lucrecia couldn't help but smile, covering it with her hand in case Hojo saw her. Gast glanced back at her, amused, then looked past her to see Hojo's response. Lucrecia regained a straight face and looked back as well, silently cheering Gast's ability to put Hojo in his place. Hojo opened his mouth for a second, then snapped it shut without a word and continued walking. Lucrecia let the stooped man pass by her and scuttle ahead into the Shinra Mansion. They filed into the front door, Gast, Hojo, then Lucrecia, and behind them came the silent steps of another man in dark blue.

The Shinra Mansion was breathtaking at sunset. Orange-red sunlight slanted through the stained-glass windows, throwing patterns of light onto the floor. Lucrecia stood still on the oriental rug, staring for a minute. Although she was a real Shinra employee now, she was still unused to this luxury. The boardrooms and penthouses of the company executives were a far cry from the crowded and bluntly functional facilities the research students worked in. And she'd always lived under the Midgar plate, first in her parents' small house in the Sector Six slums, then in student housing in Sector Four. This house, with its grand staircase and high windows, was like the setting of a delirious dream.

Absorbed in the sight, she didn't realize someone was behind her until a quiet voice came from behind her. Lucrecia startled. "Quite a switch from R&D, isn't it?"

"Y-yes," she stammered, turning to see who had spoken to her. She stopped dead again. It was one of the men in dark blue, the ones from Manufacturing. The Turks. This was not the one she'd run into with Hojo that afternoon--she wondered randomly how many they'd sent to guard them. This one was also tall, but thinner than the one she'd met today. His dark hair fell forward across his eyes as he bent his head slightly. Lucrecia felt her heartbeat speeding up. He was unexpectedly handsome, with calm, intelligent eyes, unlike the cold bruisers she had glimpsed in the Turk squad during her year and a half with Shinra.

And he was staring back at her, as shocked and fascinated as she was.

Lucrecia snapped her attention back to the room in front of them, unsettled by the Turk's gaze, wondering what he saw. She noticed that the other two scientists had already started up the grand staircase, and hurried after them without another word.

  
  
  


"I swear to you, El, he was staring right _at_ me!"

The voice on the telephone laughed merrily. "Guys do that all the time, Luce."

"Yeah, but they don't do it to _me!_" Lucrecia thought, _And they aren't all this one, either. He's...different._

Lucrecia's sister giggled and spoke in a jokingly childish tone. "Awww... _Lu_cie _has_ a _boy_friend!"

"I do not!!" Lucrecia protested, feeling her face grow warm. She was glad her sister couldn't see her. "He's just someone I saw today...some...some Turk."

"One of the Shinra hitmen?" her sister asked, with a flicker of interest.

"Yes...I think they're here to be our bodyguards during the Project. But in any case..." She hesitated asking her sister such a question. She'd know how to deal with it, of course; Elmyra had always been the social one, the public one, while Lucrecia had spent most of her life indoors, working or studying. Though she was three years older, Lucrecia was painfully aware that her sister knew more about how to deal with odd personal situations like this. "Ellie...what should I do?"

"About what?"

Lucrecia dropped into a chair by the table, exasperated. "About that _man!_ The Turk!"

"Nothing," the younger Gainsborough shrugged.

"Nothing?!"

"Nope. Just go and do your usual thing. If he likes you, he'll ask you out. Or you could ask him out. Which you won't."

Lucrecia sighed. "Don't be ridiculous," she muttered.

"See? Told you."

"...Fine."

"Cheer up, Luce," her sister said. "At least it's not your man Hojo."

Lucrecia shivered. "Not funny, El. Talk to you later."

"Bye. Say hi to the mystery man for me."

"Ha ha." She hung up, took off her glasses, rubbed her eyes, replaced the glasses, and opened her lab notebook. Enough distractions; tomorrow the work began. She'd have to forget the Turk.

Though she still wondered what his name was...

  



	4. 1.3 - Fellows

1-3. Fellows

Lucrecia shivered in the chilly air of the Mansion basement, listening to the two sets of footsteps echoing against the stone walls.

"Damn," Shelan swore appreciatively, "you know, they used to have Halloween parties in the main hall of this house when I was growing up, you know for Shinra employees, with costumes and all. But I think they missed the primo haunted house spot of the century down here."

Lucrecia nodded silently and pushed open the door to the lab. It was empty. She sighed in relief. "All right, this is the main lab. It's not very big, but this is all the room they had to set up right now." Shelan followed her in and stood in the middle of the room as she pointed things out. "Your chem equipment is over in that corner, against the far wall is my equipment, in the other corner is some general equipment--you know, centrifuges, incubators, stuff we'll all use--"

"Hah. Incubators are for bio geeks," Shelan scoffed, smiling devilishly at her.

Lucrecia stopped for a moment, realized he was joking, and went on. "...and against the right wall there is H...Dr. Hojo's equipment. Oh, and down that hall are some reference books and scientific journals--not all of them are moved in yet--and at the end of the hall is Dr. Gast's office."

"Sure," Shelan remarked, paying only half attention. He'd already started to wander toward his own table, checking the supplies.

"I think they're supposed to have everything of ours in," Lucrecia said. "It's just the books that haven't come in yet from Midgar, and the Project cells. The cells are on their way from the Knowlespole excavation site now."

Shelan nodded. "Great. When are they due?"

"Tomorrow morning."

"Awesome," said the chem student. "So, I can start setting up some preparations now if you don't mind."

"Not at all. Those were my plans exactly."

"Great minds think alike," Shelan grinned. "All right, let's get this alien life-form analyzin' party started."

Lucrecia turned to her own table, opened her notebook, and pulled a stack of sterile-wrapped petri dishes from the cupboard. She usually disliked joking around in the lab, but Shelan's humor seemed to be almost necessary in this damp, chilly place.

Despite the unsettling environment, Lucrecia thought the Project work might be pleasant after all.

  


"So you never took a class with him?" Shelan asked incredulously. "How the hell did you manage that?"

"He teaches freshman chem, Organic 1, right?" The other student nodded. "I tested out of that," Lucrecia explained. "I skipped the whole course."

Shelan groaned. "Of all the lucky..."

"Lucky? You try studying Organic 1 texts in high school."

"Fine, of all the super-genius..." Shelan carried a rack of test tubes to the incubator and set it carefully inside.

"I thought incubators were for bio geeks," Lucrecia remarked half-sarcastically.

"Ehhh-hh." Shelan made a face. "Until you get me some proper water or sand heaters, I'm stuck with your puny mortal heating devices."

"That won't affect your experiment?"

Shelan shrugged. "Not if it stays at an even temp, it should be okay."

Lucrecia nodded and turned back to her rows of dishes. Each had been coated with nutrient gel, ready to nourish a thin layer of Project cells. She counted them again and made a note in her notebook.

"Hey!!"

Lucrecia startled, expecting some dropped glassware or escaped fumes. "What is it?"

"You... you made a _joke_ back there! I heard it!"

She relaxed, though she had half a mind to punch Shelan for the false alarm. "And?"

"And?!? This is a breakthrough! I could publish that! 'Lucrecia Gainsborough found to be physically capable of humor.' Damn. Watch your committee chairmanships, here I come."

"I'm sure they're terrified." Lucrecia stacked the plates into neat stacks of five and set them on a metal tray. "For their lives, not their chairmanships."

"You made _two_ jokes in _one_ day. Now, either you've been sniffing Mako, or the Apocalypse is finally upon us."

Lucrecia smiled and considered the bizarre idea. "No...I don't think that's the final sign of the Apocalypse," she said, letting the punchline dangle.

Shelan leaned his back against the chemistry table and crossed his arms. "And what is, pray tell?"

"Hojo running up and giving someone a nice...big...friendly...hug."

The students' laughter echoed down the hall. It did not go unheard...

  
  
  


Lucrecia arrived at the lab early on her twenty-first day of work, but Shelan was already there, running some clear liquid through a long, complicated series of tubes and dripping pipettes. "So...what's the objective today?" she asked as she looked over the setup.

"I'm attempting...to discover..." Shelan adjusted a small valve, and the liquid in one of the catch-basins turned bright pink. "...the perfect...rum cocktail." He paused. "Crap. Too much."

"Your grant money from the Turks came in, eh?" Lucrecia smirked. "Try some more rum."

"No...more like sodium hydroxide." He sighed. "Got any on ya?"

Lucrecia drew a rack of petri dishes from the incubator. "As if I would sully my hands with your puny mortal 'chemistry supplies'." She opened a door on the side of a large, lighted glass cabinet and slid the rack of dishes inside, then latched the door.

"Good stuff today," she remarked. "A trial of--"

"Stop. English please, first."

"...fine. Mixing the freaky alien cells with some normal cells in a dish to see if they interact."

"Me no understand. Me puny mortal biochemist."

"Oh, stuff it," Lucrecia replied good-naturedly.

"No, that would be taxidermy."

Lucrecia rolled her eyes. "Get back to work, you're wasting precious company time."

"Oooh, a Hojo phrase. 'Precious company time.'" Shelan set aside the pink flask of liquid and replaced it with an empty flask, then restarted the flow through the apparatus. He made some notes in his book, half-watching Lucrecia as she settled in front of the glass cabinet for her preparations. The cabinet had a solid front with two flexible gloves projecting into the work space; it was completely sealed from the outside air, and from any contact with Lucrecia's skin. You couldn't be too careful with these Project cells.

Lucrecia inserted her hands into the gloves from the outside and, with them, separated some of the petri dishes from their rack into a row inside the cabinet. Shelan left his table to lean against the cabinet, watching, glancing back at his setup of tubes now and then.

The focus of their attention was a tiny vial of translucent reddish broth, propped in a rack in the sealed cabinet. "So that's them, huh?" Shelan mused. "You know, no matter how often I see that stuff, it always blows me away. Cells--_life_--from outer space. That _could_ be from outer space," he corrected.

"Theoretically," Lucrecia muttered, keeping most of her concentration on the task.

"Right, theoretically. But this has to be the most notable discovery of our generation! And we're in on it, Luce. You, me...Dr. Gast...and...that other guy..."

"H...H something? Hobo?" smirked Lucrecia.

Shelan chuckled. "That was one of them. We had _so_ many names for him in freshman chem. Man, we hated that guy."

"Awww, cuddly wittle Hojie?" As Shelan snickered, Lucrecia reached over with the gloves and twisted off the lid of the vial. She reached in with a calibrated dropper and drew out a tiny amount of reddish liquid.

"So those are them?" Shelan marveled.

"Those are _they._ Yes." She dripped the liquid onto one of the plates and tipped the plate to spread the liquid around. "Well...technically...those are loose Project cells floating in some growth medium. They're easier to handle that way, rather than in a big chunk of solid cells."

"Oh, okay. Gotcha." Shelan turned back to switch one of the catch-basins and adjust a clamp, then returned to watching Lucrecia's procedure. He peered pensively down at the array of plates, leaning on the cabinet, his arms crossed over the front of his lab coat. The top window of the cabinet reflected both of them--Shelan's messy blond hair and sky-blue eyes, and Lucrecia's dark ponytailed hair and calm, serious eyes behind the glasses. Lucrecia continued to dispense a thin film of Project cells over the surfaces of the plates, until each had received a specific amount. She then stacked the plates back up onto the tray and re-capped the vial.

"How do you dispose of that now?" Shelan asked. "I mean, when I get those cells they're ruptured into goop and centrifuged into spare parts. Those are the real, whole creepy-crawlies."

"So they are," Lucrecia said. As an answer, she dropped the vial into a hatch at the back of the cabinet and flicked a switch. A dull whoosh could be heard through the wall. She looked up at Shelan. "Incinerator."

"And that kills them?"

"We sure hope so." She withdrew her hands from the gloves, opened the access door in the side of the cabinet, and pulled out the tray of plates. "Now, these are filled with alien cells, so we have to be super-careful with them. Anything with an X on the lid is dangerous, all right? And we keep a separate incubator for them too." She opened a smaller incubator and slid the tray into it. "Now. I'll let those grow for a day or so and see what happens."

"And that's it?"

"Ha. That's _enough_. Then I have to look at all this stuff under the microscope and see how the little alien/earthly mixer went."

"See, _that_ is where my rum cocktail would come in handy."

"How's it going, by the way?" Lucrecia shut the light off in the sealed cabinet and closed the access door.

Shelan looked over his shoulder at the dripping apparatus. One of the catch-basins was tinged faintly pink. Shelan lunged toward it and shut the drip off. "All RIGHT! That's more like it. Freakin' first-year procedure and it keeps screwing up on me." He noted the calibrations on the side of a tube and made a note.

"Congratulations. You've passed first year." Lucrecia washed her hands in the sink.

"Ooooh, don't remind me," Shelan groaned. "First year was Hojo the Hobo's year. He _owned_ our asses. Give one wrong answer in class, if you caught him on a bad day, and he would ream you out like you'd killed his grandma."

"That bad?" Lucrecia was alarmed. Why was this man allowed in the company, let alone in the academy?

"He's a freaking terror. Lots of people transfer out to the Junon campus for their first year just to avoid him."

"Really?!"

"Uh-huh. 'Course, we tried to cope. We tore into that jerk like there was no tomorrow, when his back was turned. There's a small cottage industry in Hojo nicknames in the Midgar Science Academy first year."

Lucrecia smirked in spite of herself. "Now you're making me curious."

Shelan grinned and hopped up to sit on the desk in the center of the room, lightly banging his heels against the side as he swung his feet. "Hmm...let's see... there's the ever-popular Hojo the Hobo, and some other ones... um... the Shuffling Terror... Amazing Flying Nasal Man, someone actually drew a little comic on that when I was in the class. Sounds stupid but man, was it funny. And then the titles were always fun. Hojo the Hobo, DMS, Doctor of Mad Scienceology... the PhD of 'Hee Hee Hee'..."

_Slam!_

The students jerked up, their laughter choked in their throats. The door was closed. And in front of it stood Hojo himself.

There was a stunned silence, as the childhood response kicked in--Lucrecia felt like a second grader, caught telling dirty jokes by the schoolteacher.

But no schoolteacher she'd seen had ever looked at a student with such murderous hatred.

Hojo slowly released the door handle. His arm fell to dangle at his side; the other arm clutched a thick pile of papers. His narrow eyes never left Shelan.

His voice, thin as it was, had taken on a sibilant, breathy sort of menace. Though he still glared at Shelan, he addressed Lucrecia first, slowly. "I told you...I wanted none...of their kind...here. This is _my_ project, and _my_ laboratory, and I will have _none_ of _your insolent, snivelling kind_ _to ruin it!_" Hojo walked slowly toward Shelan, who remained tense and perfectly still, as if he'd been flash-frozen, encased in glass. Hojo's voice rose to a frightening, insane rant. "Now get out of my lab and out of my presence before I find it fit to throw you into the Reactor! _You will get out of my sight and if I ever see you again so help me I will make you wish you were never born! IS THAT CLEAR?_"

Shelan opened his mouth as if to answer, but decided against it. With one desperate look at Lucrecia, he leaped from the desk and ran out of the room.

The door banged shut behind him. Hojo stood in the middle of the room, absolutely cold, absolutely calm.

Lucrecia's whisper barely made it through the silence. "Dr. Gast."

Hojo scoffed. "Dr. Gast will not always be able to protect you, girl," he muttered. "Never forget that."

Another thought came to her mind: _The Turks._

But she dared not say that.

Slowly, she crossed to Shelan's table and shut off the valves one by one. The flow of liquid stopped. She picked up Shelan's notebook and quietly left the room.

  



	5. 1.4 - Breakthrough

1-4. Breakthrough

Lucrecia held her breath as she slid the first of the newest set of plates under the microscope. She picked up a pen, pushed her glasses up, and focused the view.

Nothing. She sighed and dutifully entered a note in the chart.

_10% solution of Project cells  
No visible effect on host cells_

Next plate. Out of curiosity, she switched to the other end of the series.

_70% solution of Project cells  
Total destruction of host cells_

"Total destruction" was a polite way to put it. Bathed in a thick solution of Project cells, the cultured cells--nothing special, just an innocent layer of tissue from an anonymous donor--mutated into twisted blobs, abnormally mobile, that crept along the surface of the dish, sucking in bits of each other, devouring the nutrient gel on the plate, and dividing at a frightening rate. As accustomed as she was to the strange phenomena of Mako exposure and cellular mutation, the sight still chilled her. She pushed the plate carefully aside and started to count down the list.

_60% solution of Project cells  
Widespread mutation, cells still basically functional_ _50% solution of Project cells  
Widespread mutation, cells still basically functional_

Interesting, though not necessarily useful. These cells were still recognizable as human, though they had bloated in size and adhered to each other strangely, in patterns she hadn't seen in human cells. They still drained the nutrients from the plates at an advanced rate, though they no longer destroyed each other so voraciously. This might prove interesting in the long run, but it did not behave like the kind of stable system they sought. She drew a small star in the margin of each of these rows and noted: "_May be useful in other applications..._"

_40% of Project cells_

The door creaked open. Lucrecia looked up from her notes. A blond head poked in the door, and a hand waved. "Shelan!" she exclaimed. "Why are you here? Don't let Hojo catch you..."

Shelan shrugged. "Nah. Just came back for my stuff. Gast's got Hojo in a meeting upstairs, I'm home free."

"I'm so sorry what he did to you," Lucrecia exclaimed, rising from her chair to dig into her backpack. She pulled out Shelan's lab notebook and handed it to him. "I thought Hojo was going to burn it or something, so I grabbed it," she explained.

"Thanks. Screw Hojo, the brass back in Midgar is going to want a copy of this."

"Midgar? You're going back?"

Shelan nodded. "Yeah, I _also_ braved the depths of Mad Mansion here to tell you that. I saw Gast the day after the weasel fired me. He was really great about it. Said I was being a bit 'unprofessional'--what a tragedy--but he sympathized about having to deal with the Hoj-beast. He said it probably wasn't worth giving me my assignment back, between having to shut Hojo up about it and my having to put up with the harassment, blah blah. So...I'm out of the Project. But Gast got me a new assignment. They're developing a plan to power all of Midgar on nothing but Mako reactors, and they want to see whether the pollution will kill us all." He grinned toothily. "Need mostly physiologists, but a team of biochem's too. So I have a decent assignment after all."

"That sounds like a great project, Shelan. Congratulations."

"Yeah...well...I guess it is good." Shelan looked down at his notebook, crossed his arms over it. "I mean...it's not the breakthrough of our generation, but..."

Lucrecia felt awful for her coworker; she'd been dismissed from an assignment before, and knew the crushing disappointment at having to give up a promising project. She thought she should probably go to him, offer some support--but she didn't know quite what to do. So she stood still, a little awkwardly. "It's still monumental, don't fool yourself. It could change _everything_ in twenty years' time."

Shelan looked up; a lopsided trace of a smile returned to his face. "I guess you're right."

"'Course I am," she teased.

The smile widened. "Suuuure, that's right. I forgot I was talking to the Queen of the Universe."

Lucrecia bowed graciously. "You got it."

Shelan held his hand out. Lucrecia took it, and they shook firmly, warmly. He was a good worker, and smarter than he looked; she regretted seeing him go. "See ya around, Luce. Hey, for all I know, you might piss off Hojo and end up getting fired too. We can _both_ figure out how not to poison the Midgar populace then."

"Sounds like a blast." They parted; Shelan looked around the room, as if trying to fix it in his memory.

"Good luck on the Project," he said. "And trust me, if you can manage to put up with that bastard Hojo, you're a better woman than I am." He paused. "Wait, that didn't come out right."

Lucrecia smiled. "I know what you mean."

"Good. So...I'll see ya."

"Goodbye," Lucrecia said quietly. Shelan waved and closed the door behind him.

Lucrecia sighed and returned to the microscope. _40% of Project cells_ was already written in her notes. She looked into the microscope and brought the view into focus.

She stared into the lens for a minute, carefully scanning across the entire plate, but a nervous excitement had simmered up.

_40% of Project cells  
Mild mutation, apparently fully functional_

The cells still lay like normal human cells, though they appeared to adhere together more tightly. The nutrient gel was not destroyed, the cells did not suck each other in... but they grew more vigorously than the original cells, and their shape was subtly altered.

Lucrecia neatly circled that row of the chart, allowing a small smile to play over her face. She pressed a button on the microscope, recording the view for future reference. That looked promising...but there were still a few more plates to check.

_30% of Project cells  
Mild mutation in most cells, apparently fully functional_ _20% of Project cells  
Mild mutation in some cells, apparently fully functional_

The last line of the chart, ten percent, had already been filled in. She reviewed the thirty percent plate again, and made a note: "_May also be useful; test regeneration properties._"

This was it, she knew this was it. The most important find of her career so far. The real beginning of the Project.

Lucrecia stacked up the plates on the tray and returned them to the incubator, then washed her hands at the sink. Only then did she allow herself to punch her fists in the air and shout, "_Yes!!_"

  
  
  


The local pub in Nibelheim was no Upper Midgar ballroom, but it was good enough to celebrate in. The wooden tables were clean, the lanterns on the walls were a bright, friendly yellow, and the bartender--the only employee in sight--cheerfully served up a surprisingly wide array of beverages. It was crowded when Dr. Gast and Lucrecia entered; the bar was full of townspeople, workers from the mines for the most part, and many of the tables were occupied as well. Lucrecia followed her supervisor to an empty table against the wall.

"Now that we have the atmosphere," Dr. Gast said, "let me congratulate you again on your fine work on the Project."

"Thank you," answered Lucrecia, blushing a little. "Thank you for letting me work on it. It's a great honor."

"That it is, I must say. Though, to be honest, I'd thought about passing you by at first, Ms. Gainsborough. I didn't want to steal one of Shinra's most promising young scientists just to lock her in a basement for a year." Lucrecia could tell that he was joking about the basement part, but she realized the great compliment as well.

"Thank you, sir," she said softly, not sure what else to say. _Most promising...? _Surely she didn't deserve that kind of praise...

Dr. Gast waved off the formality. "No need for the sir, for a while. This is a celebration party!"

"A party?" Lucrecia looked around the small table, laughing.

"Well...we are _most_ of the JENOVA Project research team..." Dr. Gast leaned over the table confidentially and lowered his voice. "Somehow I doubted the party would be helped by completing the team."

Lucrecia instinctively covered a giggle with her hand. "No argument there."

Dr. Gast waved to the bartender, who rounded the bar and headed their way. "So, what would you like, Ms. Gainsborough? Compliments of the Project's petty cash fund. Do you have any champagne?" he asked the bartender.

"Sure," the bartender answered. "Celebrating tonight? You're the Shinra scientists, huh? Found some way to clone people or somethin'?"

Dr. Gast laughed. "Not yet."

"Right, man. So that'll be one bottle of champagne--sorry, we only have one brand. Hey, miss, you are old enough, right?"

Lucrecia felt her face flush for a moment. "Yes, sir."

The bartender nodded and turned to Dr. Gast. "How 'bout you?" He laughed heartily at his own joke. "Ahhh, I tell ya. I'll be right back, folks." He left the table and headed back for the bar.

Lucrecia idly watched the man go, then looked down the line of people seated at the bar. They looked like mine workers, mostly, in for a beer after work. Except...when her gaze reached the end of the bar, she realized that two Turks were sitting there: a large bald man with a tattoo on the back of his neck, and...the one from the Mansion. The bald Turk had a beer like most of the other patrons, but the dark-haired one held a glass of red wine. He didn't appear to be drinking much, sipping once in a while, half-listening to the bald Turk's animated tirade, half gazing disinterestedly at the other bar patrons. Off duty like this, with one foot propped up on a stool rung, he looked much more relaxed, almost...graceful. Watching him, Lucrecia had the sudden thought that he had the makings of a languishing poet--or a vampire in a novel. Lucrecia bit her lip to keep from grinning at the ridiculous thought of that stylish, handsome young Turk as a ghoul.

Gast paused and looked at her quizzically. "What's the matter?" He turned halfway to follow the direction of her gaze.

Lucrecia looked down quickly and fidgeted with a cocktail napkin, tearing small pieces from the edge. She could feel her cheeks burning. "Nothing."

Gast smiled. "Turks, eh?" He chuckled, shaking his head. "Even level-headed Ms. Gainsborough can't resist that Turk magnetism?"

Lucrecia giggled in spite of herself. "It's silly, I know."

"Maybe so. But it doesn't hurt, as long as you don't get too involved with them. They're dangerous men, Ms. Gainsborough. It's in their nature."

Lucrecia looked back up at the man at the end of the bar. _Dangerous...?_ Yes, she could see him as dangerous; she could see a cold glint behind his calm eyes. But that was irrelevant to her, unless he actually spoke to her.

And she couldn't see that happening any time soon...

At that moment, the dark-haired Turk's eyes landed on her. Lucrecia froze, half-expecting him to glance on by, but he did not. She looked away for a moment, embarrassed to be caught staring at him--and peeked back up to find him still watching her. He seemed about to speak to his companion, but then spoke over the counter to the bartender, who was just returning from a back room with a bottle of champagne. Lucrecia found herself wishing she could hear the young man's voice, and wondered what he was saying. The bartender peered toward their table, toward Lucrecia, and nodded. He said something to the Turk, who nodded silently. He looked back at the top of the bar for a few seconds, but his gaze strayed back to Lucrecia...

"Here we are!" the bartender cried. Lucrecia startled, her concentration broken. "Two glasses of champagne for our uptown visitors. Here's hopin' you don't blow us all up." He poured two glasses for Lucrecia and Dr. Gast. "Enjoy."

Lucrecia took her glass and clinked it against Dr. Gast's, hoping the shaking of her hands wouldn't show. Her heart was still racing.

She could think of nothing but the Turk.

  



	6. 1.5 - Potential Devotion

1-5. Potential Devotion

Many times, Lucrecia had silently thanked whomever it was who had installed a greenhouse in the Mansion. Tucked in an upstairs hallway, almost as far away as possible from the lab, it became a refuge on her infrequent days off. Almost no one visited there anymore, except for one of the Mansion's caretakers--and he was quite willing to turn the care of the greenhouse over to Lucrecia. She enjoyed spending time here, warmed by the sunlight that slanted through the glass, breathing in the smell of healthy green growing things, soothed by the silence, away from exhaust fans and traffic. It was peaceful, almost meditative.

Lucrecia filled a watering can at the faucet, mulling over her time in Nibelheim so far. She'd been there almost a month. The Project was going well, especially after her find yesterday--next week she'd start to culture more of the successful Project/human mutant cells and analyze them more fully. It was a good start to the week... but for now, she was content to spend a quiet Saturday alone, free from cell culturing and alien lifeforms and irritating supervisors.

She carried the full watering can to one side of the greenhouse and started to water the plants, one by one. The repetitive task led her mind to wander again.

What else was there to think about in Nibelheim, though? She could try hiking in the hills, if she could get the right equipment in town. She reminded herself to ask at the general store this week. But then again, it wasn't really safe to go into the hills alone. Maybe she could take one of the Turks... Lucrecia laughed quietly to herself, thinking of one of their perfectly suited bodyguards scaling the side of a mountain. But then again, it might be worth it...

Of course, her thoughts had returned--_again_--to this. After the non-incident in the pub last night, she had thought of him the whole way back to the inn...had dreamed about him... Dreamed about him! A stranger! And she, a sensible woman, a _scientist,_ as rational as they come...

A soft knock on the door shattered her train of thought, and she wheeled around in surprise. For a moment she thought she was dreaming. Standing in the open door was the dark-haired Turk.

He said nothing for a moment, so she had time to take it all in and realize she wasn't dreaming. _Maybe I'm being summoned to the lab, maybe there's something wrong...?_ she thought, but realized this could not be true. He was dressed in regular clothes, a white shirt and khaki pants--a sharp contrast to the dark Turk uniform. Lucrecia felt shabby, suddenly, in her gardening overalls, her hair left loose down her back. She felt a light flush creep up into her cheeks. _Probably doesn't matter anyway,_ she thought. _Just reporting some security breach...or maybe I'm finally being fired._ But...he was off duty, by the looks of it. So why on earth was he here?

"Is there...something wrong, sir?" she managed to say, though her gaze dropped to the shelves of plants beside him.

The Turk frowned slightly, then shook his head. "No, nothing like that. I'm not on duty today." He slowly stepped forward, looking around at the plants. Lucrecia turned back to watering, self-consciously. She heard him say from behind her, quietly, almost as if to himself, "I'd heard there was a greenhouse here. It's lovely." He stood in front of the shelves of plants, looking down at them silently, though his eyes seemed a little unfocused, thoughtful. Lucrecia struggled to keep her concentration on the watering; she didn't want to kill the poor plants, even if...

She had worked her way around the circle of plants to where the Turk stood, and hesitated, wondering whether to ask him to move. Well, he seemed interested in the plants... She held up the watering can. "Would you like to take a turn?"

The Turk looked up, his reverie broken. "Oh...yes, thank you." He took the watering can from her, careful, it seemed, not to brush her hands, and started to sprinkle water on some of the plants.

"By the way..." Lucrecia ventured, clasping her hands behind her now that they were not occupied, "I'm Lucrecia Gainsborough. I'm working for Dr. Gast."

A ghost of a smile slipped over his face as he looked back up at her. "We're briefed on the Project and its members, Miss Gainsborough." He paused, a bit uncomfortably. "Mrs.?..."

"Oh, no, of course not!" She wondered whether the Turk were joking with her, but he seemed serious.

He nodded. "Though I don't see why you say it like _that..._ Too busy with your work?"

He _was_ serious, then. "It's...safe to say that that's one of the reasons, yes." A little more at ease now, Lucrecia looked around, found a small step-stool, and sat down on it. "I'm still in school, too, of course," she went on.

"That's true," the Turk answered. He continued to water the plants, picking up where he'd left off.

A few minutes went by; the young man seemed absorbed in the task, and showed no intention of speaking again. Lucrecia watched him for a while, but curiosity eventually got the best of her. "So..._we_ aren't fully briefed on the Turks...it seems unfair."

"Why's that? There isn't much to know."

"Well...you knew who I was before you came here, but I don't even know your name."

He put the watering can down suddenly. "You don't? I suppose you don't. Please forgive my rudeness." He held his hand out to her. "Valentine. Vincent Valentine."

_His name **would** be something like 'Vincent Valentine'_, Lucrecia thought wryly. She pretended to dust potting soil from her hands, making sure her palms weren't sweating, and shook his hand. "Pleased to meet you, Mr. Valentine."

"Vincent," he corrected.

"Vincent, then."

He nodded. "The pleasure is mine, Miss Gainsborough... may I call you Lucrecia, please?" The 'please' seemed to have slipped out unintentionally; it sounded strange, surprisingly eager. She wasn't sure how to respond to it, so she let it pass.

"That would be fine."

Vincent's smile was thin and a little sardonic, but genuine. It showed mostly in his eyes. He picked the can back up, but a trace of the smile remained on his face. He didn't seem very accustomed to happiness...

It was quiet for a while, as Vincent continued the watering, and Lucrecia watched thoughtfully. To her surprise, Vincent spoke first. "Do you take care of the greenhouse all the time?"

"Mostly, yes. The Mansion caretaker used to look after it, but I took it over not long after I came here. After _we_ came here," she corrected, remembering that the Turks had accompanied them.

"You're not a botanist, are you?" he said thoughtfully. "No, the file said cellular..." He trailed off, as if uncertain of the terminology.

"Cellular biology and genetics," Lucrecia supplied. Vincent nodded. "That is my field...I never specialized in botany. I've just always liked it. It's what I started in, I guess."

Vincent finished the last plant and set the watering can down on the end of the shelf. Lucrecia half expected him to leave, but he sat down on the floor beside her and looked across the greenhouse, into the afternoon sky beyond the glass walls. He did not speak.

"What are you doing?" Lucrecia asked, a little nervously.

"Listening," he replied calmly. "When did you start in botany?"

"Well...in a way, before I can remember." Vincent had turned to watch her as she spoke, and she realized she felt a bit less self-conscious now. She almost liked it, actually... "I was a flower girl in Midgar," she explained.

"Really? One of those women who...go around selling baskets of flowers, in the upper city?"

"Right. Though I didn't go up there very often. See, we'd always been flower sellers; it was sort of the family business. My parents had a garden around their house...which is rare in the slums, as you probably know. As soon as I was old enough to walk, my mother took me out into the garden, and as I grew up I learned how to take care of the flowers. I raised them and cut them, and my mother and my younger sister sold them." She paused, embarrassed. "I'm sorry, I'm rambling on about myself..."

"No, it's quite all right. I'd like to hear it."

"Really?"

"Yes," he answered simply.

"Okay... that's about all, really. That garden was always my favorite place as a child. It wasn't too much, I suppose, not by Nibelheim standards or anyone else's standards, but in Midgar it seemed like paradise. We had to work hard to get the flowers to grow, and only a few kinds would grow at all, but that made it all the more valuable to us when they did grow. It made them...rarer, I suppose. And they were also evidence of all our work and all our caring..." She trailed off into thought, remembering the gardens of her youth. It wasn't so different from her field now, she thought, in a way. You wore yourself to distraction trying to coax something from the world, but when you finally succeeded...

Vincent's question quietly interrupted her thoughts. "When did you become interested in cellular biology instead?"

"When I tried it," she shrugged. "I was always good in science and math in school, and when I went to college I realized that there were a lot of great projects on the horizon in Cell. I'd always been good at it, of course; that wasn't the difficult part. And I loved the challenge, the battle of research."

"The battle? How so?"

"In research, especially in a big company like Shinra, you have to strive to stay one step ahead of the next company, the next team. One patent, one discovery, one _experiment_ ahead. You have to be at the top of your game. You have to be the best. And...I found that I finally had the opportunity to be among the best."

"With Dr. Gast."

"Yes. He is the head of Shinra Research, after all...and a brilliant scientist. And the company is growing as well, as you know; we suspect within thirty years it will be the only leading multinational in the world. Shinra Research will rule the field of science."

"And you would like more than anything to be a part of that?"

"Yes."

"And there were no such advancements in botany?"

Lucrecia shrugged. "A few. Nothing competitive."

The young man thought for a minute. Lucrecia found herself wishing he would speak more; she wondered what went on in his mind. _Curiosity? Scorn? Confusion? Disgust? Sympathy?_ "Are you happy?" he asked suddenly, shocking her out of her thoughts. "You haven't given up the field you love for ambition?"

"Of...course I'm happy," she replied blankly, then regained her composure. "I love the field I chose, and I'm doing very well in it. It's a great honor to have been chosen for this project. No, I'm happy."

Vincent nodded. "I'm glad... Though there's nothing wrong with ambition inherently. In fact, I admire it; I have no ambition myself."

"Oh, surely you have to," she insisted.

"No."

Lucrecia waited for his explanation, and received none. She hesitated, wondering if it would offend him to ask about it. Of course, curiosity got the best of her. "You don't have any goals at all? Why are you working for Shinra?"

"It's a job," he shrugged. "It fits my talents well, and it pays well."

"That's all? You're not interested in..." She considered what a Turkly ambition might be. "...becoming the leader of the Turks, or something?"

"Not in the slightest." He looked up at her, a spark of cynicism in his eyes. "Why, do you have an eye on Dr. Gast's job?"

Lucrecia smirked. "Off the record?"

"Of course."

"Not Gast's. Hojo's."

"Really." Lucrecia thought he looked impressed; it was a bit hard to tell. He didn't show any emotion clearly, apparently. It all seemed muted, restrained. "Too much respect for Gast, I assume."

"Yes. I mean, when he finally retires--which I hope isn't soon, he's one of the best scientists Shinra has ever had--I would like to head the department...but I wouldn't take it from him. Vice, now...I could do well as the vice-chair."

"Hojo's present position, right?" Vincent clarified.

"Right. Not only would I love the chance to work with Dr. Gast...but I don't think Hojo is fit for the position. Actually, I don't think Hojo is fit for _any_ position...you didn't hear that," she said hurriedly.

"Of course not."

"Besides... well, Hojo is a brilliant scientist. I'll give him that. And he has great aspirations for the company, in a way. But he's..." She searched for the right word.

"...morally bankrupt," Vincent suggested.

"Yes. I was thinking something more along the lines of 'deficient', but 'bankrupt' will work."

Vincent nodded. "I've noticed his attitude toward humanity. It's hard to miss."

"I can't figure him out," mused Lucrecia, "even after almost six weeks here. It's as if...there's a part missing from him, some component of his humanity has been left out. I think he was born without the capacity to care about any living thing other than himself."

The Turk did not reply; the silence deepened, pressing around them. Just before Lucrecia meant to ask what was wrong, he spoke. "Be careful how you accuse," he said quietly. "I've been told the same thing about myself."

"You? Why would anyone say that?"

"Because, to an extent, it's true."

"But..." She trailed off, unable to express the thought: _It's not true. It can't be true. I won't let it..._

His voice slowly chilled as he began to speak. "With all due respect, Lucrecia, you know very little about me. I'm a Turk, first of all, and with that comes a certain necessity for...how did you put it... 'moral deficiency'. Second of all, yes, it is true: technically, there is no living thing I care about at the moment other than myself." He paused, a little painfully, as if the statement had been difficult to admit. "However, unlike Hojo, I believe that my condition is not permanent. It's not that I don't care about other people; it's that, at this point, I have no one to care about. Though that makes little sense to most people. They have no use for potential devotion, apparently." He pulled one knee up to his chest, wrapping his arms around it defensively. "So although I have the same capacity for humanity as anyone--more than some people, I daresay--I am judged as inhuman, an equal of Hojo's, because of my circumstances and my occupation."

Lucrecia was stunned for a moment, confused by the sudden outburst, unsure of how to react. She fought a score of clashing impulses--_contradict him? Ask about his circumstances? How can I say that? Or should I not question him at all?..._ Finally, lacking any words at all, she hesitantly unfolded her hands from her lap and laid a hand on his shoulder, comfortingly--she hoped it was comforting. Vincent looked up at her sharply, but his dark eyes were hard to read; she saw only surprise and a trace of suspicion. He looked down again, not stopping her, not encouraging her.

"So you...you really have no one?"

"No," he answered quietly. "Not at present."

"Family?"

"No."

"Wife, sweetheart...?"

He held up one hand to show her that he wore no rings, then dropped it. "No."

"Friends?"

Vincent chuckled caustically. "Have you ever spoken to the average Turk?"

Lucrecia stifled a giggle. "I guess you're right."

Neither spoke for a minute or so; Lucrecia watched him thoughtfully, wishing she could help to pull him from whatever dark place he'd fallen into... "Would you consider...me?"

She felt his back stiffen a little under her hand. "For which category?" he asked cautiously, but she heard something else under it as well..._curiosity? Disbelief?_

_Interest?_

Lucrecia tried to ignore her suddenly racing heart. "To which category may I apply, sir?" she asked, hoping that the facetious tone would mask the tremble in her voice.

Vincent looked up at her, and the joking vanished. _Not just interest_, she realized.

_Fascination? How...?_

He asked quietly, "For you? I think..." He looked away. "Everything."

Lucrecia froze, her hand drawing away from him in shock. Vincent turned, and though his pained eyes met hers for a moment he must have misinterpreted the gesture. He struggled to his feet, a little clumsily, muttering apologies. "I'm sorry, Miss Gainsborough...what made me think I could--"

"No! Wait." Lucrecia leaped to her feet after him. "No, I didn't mean it like that. I was just surprised." He paused, listening. "Well...stunned is a better word for it." She sighed, running her fingers back through her hair. "Um, I'm not handling this well. Sorry."

"No, it's quite all right," Vincent replied, dusting off his clothes and appearing to regain his composure. "Thank you for showing me the greenhouse; it's very beautiful."

"Thank you... you're welcome... I mean..." She blushed a little. "It's not much, really."

"By whose standards?" he asked, and she realized that the question did not require an answer.

"Thank you," she admitted again. "So...I'm off most Saturdays, if you'd like to come again. I'll be here."

He smiled, openly this time, and Lucrecia felt her face grow warmer by a fraction. "I would be honored to visit again," he replied. "It's been a pleasure meeting you, Miss Gains... Lucrecia." 

"The pleasure is mine, Vincent." She stepped forward to shake his hand again, fighting the impulse to slip her arms around him--_as if he wouldn't notice!_ she scolded herself. 

Vincent took her hand in both of his, but did not shake it; he simply clasped her hand for a moment and let go. "Goodbye."

"Goodbye," Lucrecia replied weakly, as he left the way he came.

  



	7. 1.6 - Duskdreaming

1-6. Duskdreaming

It was nearing sunset when Lucrecia left the inn. It had been a spectacularly dull day--she'd spent it reading and tending to the greenhouse--so she was jumpy from too-long inactivity as well as from nervousness.

Ten minutes ago, she'd been curled up in a chair at the table in her room, one foot tucked under her, the other propped up against the leg of the chair, oblivious to the world. She was six chapters into a history of the Cetra, written several years ago by one of the last recognized Cetra scholars; it was strange, fascinating reading. She'd never realized how..._human_ they really were... A soft knock on the door startled her out of her thoughts. She marked her place in the book with an index card and got up to answer the door, carrying the book with her, hardly wondering who might be there.

Vincent was there, leaning a little with his hand on the doorframe, still in his dark-blue uniform. Lucrecia was too shocked to speak for a moment. "Vincent! Back already?"

"Yes. But only for tonight. Can I see you? Anything, really--walk around the village, maybe, before it gets too dark?"

"Of course. Are you all right? You sound...tired." He looked exhausted, as well, and something else, something harder to define. _Persecuted? And distracted,_ she thought. _Distracted by what?_

"I'm fine," he said dismissively. "Are you coming?"

"Sure... just let me get changed, I'll only be a minute."

"You look fine...but all right. Meet me at the well."

"Lucrecia!"

A voice startled her out of her thoughts. She looked up and realized she'd almost passed by Vincent; he was standing in the shadow of the well tower, leaning against the wooden scaffolding. He stepped away from it to greet her. "Sorry, I was..." _reliving every second of your presence like a lovesick nitwit,_ she thought. "...just daydreaming."

Vincent glanced at the dimming sky. "It's almost night," he said, a trace of a smile haunting his face. "Early-evening-dreaming?"

"Duskdreaming?" Lucrecia suggested.

"Yes. I like that. Duskdreaming..." Vincent smiled to himself for a moment, then waved toward the square. "Shall we go?"

Lucrecia nodded, and as she started to walk, Vincent followed at her side. They walked slowly through the square, which was still busy by Nibelheim standards; workers crossed through it on their way to their homes or the pub. Many of the townspeople shot suspicious glances at Vincent's Turk uniform, but no one spoke to them. As they neared the edge of the village center, the roads emptied, and Lucrecia relaxed a bit. She couldn't stand some of those people sometimes, with their attitude...what had Shinra ever done to hurt them? To take her mind off the subject, she looked over at Vincent; he was walking with his hands in his pockets, looking thoughtfully toward the ground. He noticed her watching him and glanced up.

"Why didn't you change?" she asked. "That suit can't be comfortable."

Vincent shrugged. "It doesn't bother me. And I didn't really have the time."

"You had the time to go for a walk, didn't you?"

"The walk was what I came back for," he replied quietly, evenly.

Lucrecia was too stunned to reply. _Is that all...? Why did he... But that's not enough to...They were sent all the way to Corel! That's not important enough to come back, just for--_ She stumbled, unaware of the ground under her feet. Vincent caught her, steadied her, and they both stopped in the middle of the road. "I'm fine, I'm all right, sorry," she mumbled, wishing it were a bit darker so that he would not see her face flushing. He hadn't let her go yet. He was holding her upper arms, lightly, and looking into her face--studying her, she thought. She couldn't resist looking back. His expression was thoughtful but guarded, almost cold. Something had to be wrong...

Vincent released her, slowly, letting his hands slip almost accidentally down her arms. Lucrecia closed her eyes for a moment. _This can't be happening._ "Thank you," she said.

"You're welcome," he answered, and looked away, toward the side of the road. They were walking past the grounds of the Mansion, a huge, parklike swath of land that lay between the edge of the town and the beginning of the mountains. A shoulder-high brick wall separated the grounds from the town's land. Vincent looked over the wall at the Mansion grounds, then back at Lucrecia. "Would you like to go in?"

"No--well, it looks nice, but we passed the gate so long ago. It's not worth backtracking."

"Who said we had to use the gate?" Vincent placed his hands on the top of the wall and swiftly pulled himself to the top of it, perching in a half-crouch on the edge. He offered a hand back down to Lucrecia. "Come on, I won't let you fall."

Lucrecia took his hand, though, she thought, it would probably be easier if she had full use of both her hands... it was the thought that counted, anyway. She grabbed on to the edge of the wall and hoisted herself up, pushing against the wall with her feet and allowing Vincent to balance her. She was at the top almost as easily as he had been, only a little winded. She smiled at him, noticing his mild shock.

"You didn't climb trees in your childhood, did you?..."

"How could I? No, I was a slum kid; we climbed fences." She let go of his hand and jumped down to the grass; Vincent landed beside her. "Though I'm probably worse at it than most. I spent more time inside than they did." She started walking, and Vincent walked again at her side. The ground was softer here, grassy, and no voices from the village reached them. The sun was setting behind the mountains, staining the sky orange and pink, throwing long shadows at the bases of the trees. Lucrecia breathed in deeply. She hadn't been out in the fresh air like this for a long time... Glancing up at a tree as they passed by, she remarked, "Green oak."

Vincent looked up. "These?" She nodded. "Is that their real name? Why are they called green oaks?"

"That's their name, yeah. They're called green because the acorns are dark green when they're ripe. Most kinds are brown."

"Really." He looked up at the trees as he walked, and that ghost of a smile returned. "So although you didn't climb trees, you knew all about them?"

"In a way. I read about all kinds of plants, trees among them. I just didn't get to see them very often in the flesh. Um, in the wood. --You know what I mean."

"Yes." Vincent looked up into the leaves, just starting to turn brown for the coming fall. "Are there any other interesting surprises about you, Miss Gainsborough?"

"Interesting? Oh, I don't think that's interesting..." She didn't even think to correct him about the name, realizing he was kidding her a little--at least about that part. "I mean, I don't really do anything. I just know about plants, that's all."

"And cells," he added, "and Ancients..."

"Ancients?"

"You were reading a _History of the Cetra_ when you came to the door," he explained.

Lucrecia blinked. "You noticed that?"

"Yes," he replied calmly.

"Oh," she said, stupidly, not quite sure what to say. "Well...thank you, I guess."

"For what?"

"For the..." _compliment. For the polite and lovely lie._ "...for thinking I'm interesting."

"You're welcome. Thank you for telling me about it."

"Oh..." She felt her cheeks warming again, faintly. "It's quite all right." She swallowed, thinking of something else to talk about. "I'm sure you know many more interesting things than I do, though."

He looked at her, though she could not read his face in the shadows of the trees. "I don't think so. The kinds of things I know are not what you'd want to hear about."

"I don't think so," she insisted. "You have to be interested in something I'd like to hear about...what do you like, Vincent?"

He thought for a minute, as they walked. "Books," he said.

"That's interesting."

"Can be," he admitted. "Is that surprising? For a Turk to be interested in books?"

"Not if it's you," she answered truthfully. "What do you like to read?"

He was quiet for a moment. "A bit of everything," he answered. "Philosophy, theories on life and what it means to be good. Poetry. Novels, if they're not too brainless. History, actually, now that I think about it..."

"I should be done with that Ancients' history in a week or two. You can borrow it if you like."

"I think I would," he said. "Thank you."

Lucrecia watched him, as they passed out of a tree's shadow and into the fading light; he was smiling a bit to himself again, though his eyes were still overcast with some pain, some trouble. "Books are interesting... what else do you like?"

He considered her question. "I like classical music, I used to love going to the symphony... though I haven't heard an orchestra in so long, because of this job."

"Why don't we go, then?" The question was out before she had a chance to stop herself.

Vincent seemed not to have noticed. "There isn't a decent orchestra between here and Junon."

"Oh... well, there's a concert hall not far from here. Do they ever play there?"

"I'd forgotten about that. Yes, they might." He looked over at her, questioning. "You'd really like to go with me?"

Lucrecia nodded, unable to speak for a moment. "I would."

"Good..." His voice trailed off, and came back near a whisper. "I would like that. Thank you."

"The pleasure's mine," she replied. "I'll see what I can find out. We'll just have to take some time off."

Vincent nodded. "It's difficult. I'll find a way."

_Just for that?..._ "Good." He sounded so tired, suddenly, as soon as she'd mentioned work... "Would you like to stop and rest for a while?"

He shrugged. "I wouldn't mind, if you'd like to."

"All right..." She looked around the area; there was another large tree not far away. "How about under that tree?" Vincent looked, and nodded. They headed for the tree, slowly. Lucrecia hoped she could get him to talk a little more once they stopped to rest, maybe tell her what was troubling him...though she didn't expect very much, it was worth trying.

They reached the tree; its shade blocked out some of the moonlight and the last fading glow of the sun, but Lucrecia could still see well enough. She sat on the grass under it, while Vincent lay on his back, staring up into the leaves.

"Mountain maple," Lucrecia observed. Vincent barely smiled. "You do look tired," she said. "Are you all right?"

His only answer was, "I suppose so."

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing. Work."

"You don't want to tell me?"

"You don't want to know."

"You can tell me about it, you know," she said softly. "You can trust me."

"It's not that."

"I don't mind hearing about it, either, if that's what you're worried about."

He looked up at her, and in his eyes she glimpsed the same cold she'd seen in the bar. _Dangerous...maybe. But not to me, I don't believe it..._ "Do you realize what my job can entail?"

"Yes. The company doesn't admit it, but everyone knows it. Everyone from Midgar, at least."

"What do they know?" he asked, and she could hear the constructed chill in his voice.

Lucrecia took a deep breath. She wasn't sure why he wanted her to say it--to prove she knew? To punish himself? Both? "We know that if you have to, you'll kill people." Her voice was calm, nonjudgmental; it was a statement of fact, no more. Vincent looked away. "It's something you come to accept, I guess."

Lucrecia went on, quietly. "Do you know what my job can entail? A lot of the Research Department isn't open to the public, either. Some of the labs have live animals in cages, in tanks, cut apart and sewed up, hooked up to wires... People say Hojo has been accused of experimenting on humans, though no one can prove it. Urban Development helped to build Midgar by crushing the people of the slums. There isn't a department in this company without blood on its hands, Vincent. That's the way the machine is made. It's why we're where we are, why we can live the way we live. It's something you come to accept."

Vincent did not respond for a long time; Lucrecia did not watch him, half-afraid of seeing the hurt gathering in his narrow face. Finally, he turned onto his side, with his back to her. His voice was faint, but she heard it. "You could never kill anyone."

The silence dropped around them. Lucrecia realized what he meant: he had killed someone. Today, on assignment in Corel. _On assignment,_ she thought. _Killing as assigned. Is that what this company does to us, makes us into obedient machines, something programmable--makes us into killing machines?_ But she knew he had not been programmed, this young Turk; he was killing himself in return for what he'd done, even now. They had trained him well enough to kill, but he had remained human...

Lucrecia moved a little closer to him on the grass and laid her hand on his arm. She wished she could see his face. "I forgive you," she said softly.

Vincent turned over suddenly and looked up at her. There was a trace of disbelief in his eyes, but it was overshadowed by something else, many other things--grief, wonder... _Fascination again? No...something else now... But it can't be..._

_It is._

He took her hand in his and held it, for a long time, without a word.

"Thank you," he said finally.

"You're welcome," she replied.

  



	8. 1.7 - Contact

1-7. Contact

Vincent did not look surprised when he stepped into the lab, which could mean one of two things: either he'd seen it before, or he hadn't seen it before and, as usual, was very good at hiding the fact. Lucrecia pointed everything out as if he hadn't seen it; no use in embarrassing both of them by asking. "That's the chemistry equipment, where Shelan...worked; my section, for studying cells; the general equipment; Hojo's stuff; and down the hall is Dr. Gast's office." Vincent nodded. "I hope you won't be too bored...?"

"No." He wandered toward Lucrecia's section, looking over everything. "This is yours?"

"Yes. I'll just be running some tests on the 40% cells today--not too complicated, but very time-consuming."

"I see. Forty percent?"

Lucrecia nodded and opened her notebook. She flipped a few pages to a taped-in photograph of the crucial cells and handed it to him. "They're the most promising of the trials I've done so far," she explained, as he studied the picture. "Though we have to test them more thoroughly--which I'm starting today--they seem to be closest to what we're looking for."

Vincent nodded and gave her notebook back. "And you're looking for...a way to create Ancients."

"Right." Lucrecia crossed to the Project-only incubator and withdrew a rack of plates. "They have powers beyond that of normal humans, although their genetic makeup is almost identical to ours. So it's thought that it might not be very hard to... force this state onto a normal human." She carried the rack of plates to the microscope counter and carefully set them down.

"To turn a 'normal human' into an Ancient," Vincent clarified.

"More or less, yes." She sat down at the counter and readied her notes, then slid the first of the plates onto the microscope. "The problem was, we didn't know what made Ancients the way they were. Are," she corrected herself, switching to another plate. "For years, Shinra has had dozens of projects working on different possibilities. Genetic engineering, genealogy studies, Mako exposure, infusions with different metals and minerals... Some have worked, some haven't. The most promising was the Mako project; that opened up a whole new field of study. Groundbreaking work." She set aside the last of the series and began to check the next, thoroughly but mechanically, automatically. Her mind was focused on the history of the Project; and constantly, silently, Vincent's presence prickled across her skin. It was not an unpleasant situation...

Her curiosity gaining the upper hand, Lucrecia turned to see what his reaction was. Vincent stood in the middle of the room, leaning back against the desk. He'd picked up a notebook from the desk and was paging through it, thoughtfully. Lucrecia hoped he wasn't bored...he'd wasted his day off here, after all, waiting around in this dungeon of a laboratory instead of...whatever he usually did on his days off. She still didn't know why he'd chosen to do this, or what he would have done otherwise. She wasn't quite courageous enough to ask him.

He didn't look bored...or at least she didn't think he did. It was encouraging. His attention seemed to be given to reading, and she took the opportunity to watch him for a moment; his head was bent over the book and his hair shadowed his eyes, but he seemed at ease--if a bit out of place--down here. Or was it just a projection of her own mind, that he didn't belong here? He was assigned to assist the Project members, and was authorized to view any classified information. Of course, no one expected a Turk to be interested in the minute details of the Project, but it certainly wasn't forbidden... Vincent looked up, and Lucrecia startled, caught staring into space in his direction, her mind having drifted; she felt her cheeks flushing. _It's not what you think, I wasn't... was I?_ The sudden possibility hijacked her train of thought--suddenly, it _was_ him she was staring at, looking odd and intriguing as he did in regular clothes--_they say it's the uniform that does it, but the few times he's without makes him seem so...normal, so reachable... I wonder....if someday...he could think the same of me, when I'm not in this lab coat...Stupid!_ Lucrecia abruptly turned back around, snapping her reverie. Not only was there work to be done, but she couldn't let herself get caught mooning over him like a schoolgirl. She shouldn't _be_ mooning like a schoolgirl in the first place!

Vincent waited, calmly, it seemed, as if waiting for her to speak, as if he hadn't noticed her odd behavior. He cleared his throat quietly. "This Project started as one of those many projects, then, with the same goal?"

Lucrecia paused for a moment, recalling the path of the conversation, as she loaded the next plate onto the microscope. "Yes. It originally started when an unusual meteorite was found at the Knowlespole archaeological site, which is far north of here. It gave evidence for several Cetra legends about an object called 'Jenova', or as the original Ancient name translates, 'crisis from the sky'." She made a note of the plate's appearance and switched to the next. "According to the Ancients, this meteorite brought nothing short of catastrophe; many of their people were infected with a strange disease and died, usually raving mad. They connected it with the meteorite immediately, which made the Shinra researchers wonder whether the meteorite might have carried some unknown pathogen with it...a virus from outer space, in short."

"That would explain the secrecy on Shinra's part, wouldn't it?"

"Exactly. Out of all of the scandals let loose to the public, 'killer mutant viruses from outer space' seems especially dangerous. So rather than start a worldwide panic over nothing, we chose to conduct the Project here, in secret." Lucrecia stacked the last plate back onto the rack and turned the microscope off. She carried the rack to the inoculation cabinet and slid it in through the side door. "It's working so far. We haven't had any major problems with the people of Nibelheim."

Vincent nodded; his voice was quiet, controlled. "You haven't. Though may I add, if you did have problems, you might not even know about it."

Lucrecia realized what he meant: that was the Turks' job, to deal with dissent from the public. He knew the state of the public much better than she did. "Oh. That's...true." Embarrassed by her accidental arrogance, she slipped her hands into the sealed gloves in the front of the chamber and busied herself with the plates. Vincent stepped away from the desk behind her to watch; she could see his reflection, pale and thoughtful, in the glass.

"What are you doing now?"

"Just getting ready for some tests. I'm going to compare the cells I mutated with a profile of real Ancient cells and see how close we really are." She continued to dispense a layer of enzyme solution over the cells on the plates. Vincent stood close behind her, watching her work, and Lucrecia tried not to let her hands tremble.

"Please go on," he said. "Viruses from outer space...?" 

"Oh, right." Lucrecia remembered where she'd left off, grateful for the distraction. "At the excavation site, they also found something even more interesting to the department--a preserved body of one of the Ancients who had been infected with the Jenova virus. They studied the remains, and found that the virus actually caused the Ancients' cells to mutate more easily than usual. In most cases the victims died before a great deal of mutation could take place; their bodies could not handle a widespread change without assistance. Hojo thinks that if they had been exposed to both the virus and Mako energy, they might have survived and mutated further, but that's really not useful to our study. In any case, it's thought that the virus can come in contact with Ancient cells and cause them to quicken, in a way, so that they will mutate faster and also spread their changed makeup to the cells around them. More importantly, we found no traces of the intact virus in the frozen specimen's system. So we think after infection, it just...dies out, disappears."

"That's unusual, isn't it?"

"Very. It seems to go against all we know right now. That's one of the reasons this project is so important." Lucrecia swirled one of the plates; the solution she'd placed on it had caused the cells to come unglued from the plastic. She carefully poured the cell mixture into a test tube. "The aim of the JENOVA Project is to see if these quickened Ancient cells will also mutate regular human cells into their own kind. If that works, then we have a way to create neo-Cetra--an injection of these cells will cause the cells around them to mutate into their own kind, like a chain reaction, and hopefully, by the end, the whole body will be transformed into something new."

Vincent was quiet, thinking it over, it seemed, as he watched her transfer the cells into tubes for testing. Finally he said, almost as if to himself, "Interesting...and frightening, as well. Why are they so eager to recreate an Ancient in the first place?" he asked her.

"Well, as I said, they have powers that normal humans can't fathom. They can draw on the strength of the Planet itself. It's said that they also know of a place of untold power, the 'Promised Land', which is said to be a source of pure Mako energy. Needless to say, if Shinra were to claim a source of power as tremendous as that...they could provide energy to the entire world at almost no cost to themselves."

She saw Vincent's thin smile reflected in the glass. "It all comes back to profit."

"Of course; it _is_ a business." Lucrecia couldn't help the trace of cynicism that darkened her voice. "But it would also advance the field of science, so we aren't complaining."

In the reflection, Lucrecia saw Vincent glance over at Hojo's equipment, the locked boxes and specimen tanks. "Maybe you should," he murmured. Lucrecia wasn't sure whether he meant her to hear it.

Somewhat troubled, Lucrecia poured off the last of the plates into its numbered tube and pushed the empty plate into the incinerator hatch. She was used to hearing such criticism of her field; in her first year in graduate school she had even had to break through lines of protesters to get to work. But she wasn't used to fielding questions from people she actually respected. --_Cared about_, her mind corrected. She left that thought unconsidered for the moment.

Still, Vincent showed no signs of disrespect or indignation about it. He didn't act like the protestors she'd seen, cutting down Shinra power lines, screaming at the graduate students as they sprinted through to work. He didn't accuse. He simply questioned. She was actually interested in what he thought...he probably had some interesting ideas on the subject.

"What problems do you have with our work, then?" she asked Vincent. "Forgetting Hojo's reputation, I mean. What are we doing that's so wrong?"

Vincent considered the question, leaning against the cabinet with his arms crossed. Waiting for his answer, Lucrecia straightened up the racks of test tubes and consulted her notes. Some of them were marked for genetic profiling, others for chemical analysis--a point she hadn't told Hojo, preferring to figure out the protocol herself from books rather than trust her project to him. _He'll know when my report comes out_, she thought. _But by then I won't have to deal with him nearly as much..._

"I think the Project assumes too many rights," Vincent said at last, carefully. "It assumes that Shinra has the right to claim whatever it wishes, although my thoughts were that the Ancients deserved the right to their own ancestral ground. I'll have to read more on their history, though, before I decide that." Lucrecia had given him the book on Cetra history two days before; she couldn't see how he'd had time to read it, though she suspected that he'd managed to, somehow. "It assumes that the...patient? Subject? --has no rights as well, that the progression of the Project and the profit of the corporation outweigh any rights the subject has to a normal life."

"Why wouldn't they have a normal life? They'd be very well treated by the company. They'd be the company's greatest asset."

"Until the Promised Land is found," Vincent said. "Then they'd just be an outdated piece of survey equipment."

"That's a little harsh."

"Maybe. I've seen how this company regards human life."

"But we have _standards_ in Research!" She regretted the phrasing of that at once. "I mean, we have regulations, standards of operation; I don't mean your department has no...oh, never mind!"

"I know what you mean. It's true, anyway." Almost involuntarily, Vincent tucked his right hand under his left arm. The gesture seemed to have some meaning, though Lucrecia couldn't place it. Vincent went on, "The Turks have no respect for life, by their unofficial definition. By their official definition we do; we're only 'investigators'. We harm no one. In theory." He sighed, and his hand tightened over his side for a moment. _Was he wounded,_ she thought, _on assignment in Corel? Why didn't I notice that?..._ "I hope you never find out what this company is capable of," he said quietly. "That's all."

Lucrecia watched him, thinking over his comment. The lab was quiet except for the distant hum of the ventilation system. Finally, she nodded. "I hope so, too." After another moment's pause, she impulsively pulled her hands from the cabinet's gloves and stood up. _Stop thinking for a minute, Luce, you're going to miss everything..._ She reached out and gently pulled his hand away from where it clutched his side. Vincent stared down at it for a second, as if he hadn't realized what he'd done, then his eyes locked on her face. He brought his left hand up to hers, and she did the same, enclosing his hands in hers. They stood there, still, almost afraid to move, stricken by something that was almost violent, almost frightening in its suddenness. _This is something, here...this could be something real, something incredible, if it works, if I don't mess it up, if he doesn't come to his senses and realize he's too good for me, I can't let that happen, I can't stand this..._ They stood there, two separate souls thrown together by chance and the Corporation, both sensitive, both guilt-ridden for their individual sins, both convinced they did not deserve this thing which fate had thrown in their paths. Two months they'd been here. Two months. The world could shift that quickly...

The phone rang.

Lucrecia jumped, her thoughts shattered. She glanced around, confused--what phone? It rang again, and she remembered the office phone, down the hall in Gast's office. Of course. She looked back at Vincent, at their entwined fingers, and blushed deeply; how could she have... She sprang away from him, stammering an apology, and sprinted down the hall to Dr. Gast's office.

She snatched up the phone before its jagged ring could crack the stillness again. "Dr. Gast's office, Nibelheim, how may I help you?" she reeled off, expertly.

"Is Gast in?" a voice demanded on the other end: not Hojo, no one she recognized.

"No, sir. He and Dr. Hojo are both off today."

"Oh, that's just great. You're one of the grad students, I assume?"

"Yes, sir."

"Maybe you can answer my question, then, nobody else seems to be able to. Why in hell haven't you sent your biochem student? He was reassigned to our project two and a half weeks ago."

"Shelan?" Lucrecia frowned, confused. "From our project?..."

"Yes, I have his reassignment forms right here. Third-year biochem, Strife, Shelan. Where is he, why haven't you sent him? We can't hold up the project forever."

Lucrecia answered helplessly, "We...did send him. He left two weeks ago."

"Well then, he must have swum the whole way, because we haven't seen a trace of him yet."

"Really? I...don't quite know what to tell you, sir. He's not working on the JENOVA Project now. As far as I know, he left Nibelheim two weeks ago."

"Fine, then you tell Dr. Gast to call us about this. This is a waste of our time and money, you know."

"Yes, sir." Lucrecia picked up a pad and pen from Dr. Gast's desk and wrote, _Urgent: Dr. Gast--Shelan's new team called, hasn't seen him. Call back:_ "Where should he call?"

"Call the central Research office and ask for Dr. Lansing, Midgar Reactor Project."

Lucrecia finished the note: _central Research, ask for Dr. Lansing at Midg. Reactor Proj._ "I'll let him know. Thank you for calling."

"Right, just get it done." The voice on the other line hung up, and after double-checking the note, Lucrecia did the same. Her head was starting to hurt. Where on earth was Shelan, then, if he hadn't shown up in Midgar...? She sighed, placed the note and the pen back on the desk, and walked back down the corridor. Her work was waiting...and so was Vincent...

She never saw the note again.

And neither did Dr. Gast.

  



	9. 1.8 - Top of the World

1-8. Top of the World

"I don't understand it, Elly. I just don't."

"What's not to understand? You like him. He likes you. That's all there is to it."

"But _why?_" Lucrecia threw her hands in the air, the phone cradled against her shoulder. "He's so...smart, and considerate, and...he takes me seriously, and he's good to talk to, and..." She dropped into a chair by the table, giving up the search for descriptions.

"Cute?" Elmyra suggested.

"Yeah, but... well, I wouldn't call him 'cute,' he's too serious for that, 'handsome' is more like it, but anyway that's not the main thing!"

"No, but it helps..."

"Will you please listen to me for a minute?!"

"Sorry."

"Thank you," Lucrecia sighed, aggravated.

Elmyra went on, "Think about it, Luce--you just gave me a great list of reasons why you like him. So what's the question?"

"I said, my question is _why?_ Why on earth is this man interested in me?"

"Awww, Lucie...you can't mean that."

"I do, I don't understand it at all." She rested her face in her hands, her elbows propped up on the table. "Nothing like this has ever happened to me, Elly, and I just...I don't know why it's happening, and I don't know what I should do."

"Well...as for what you should do...I'd say...keep your wits about you, but follow your heart. And as for why...come on, Luce, you're a great person."

"But I'm not..." She looked up at the mirror on the wall across from her for a moment, then closed her eyes. Same as always. Long, pulled-back dark hair, glasses, plain and functional clothes. _Mother used to call me mousy, though she didn't mean it to hurt...Elly was never 'mousy'... 'Kitten', maybe, but..._ "I'm just not..." _I'm not pretty. I'm not enthralling. I'm not you._ "I'm not...obsess-able."

Elmyra chuckled quietly on the other end of the line. "Nobody said he had to be obsessed with you, hon. He just...likes you, he probably thinks you're fun to be around, or maybe he's too serious and just thinks you're interesting to be around. He probably thinks you're pretty, or could be if you tried a little. I mean, you have a lot of stuff going for you, if you think about it. You're very dedicated and honest and all. And you're like a genius, for crying out loud! Some guys really go for that."

"Sure they do," Lucrecia muttered.

"They do! Or they would if you wouldn't be so cold to them. I watched you in high school, Luce, and I saw how the guys acted. They were scared, or they just gave up because you were too busy with studying and work and all. They probably didn't think they could steal a minute of your time unless they tied you to a chair and _forced_ you to talk to them."

Lucrecia smiled at the ridiculous image, in spite of herself. "I never noticed anything like that."

"Of course you didn't. You were too busy being a super-student. But now, see, I think you have a little more time for other stuff too. I mean, you're working, but now you know what you're doing and everything. I think this is a great opportunity."

"For what?"

"For seeing what else life can offer you."

Lucrecia was quiet for a moment, shocked by the statement. Elmyra continued, "Think about it, then. Just don't think too much."

"All right," Lucrecia answered slowly.

"And if all else fails I'll talk to the mystery man myself and work a little matchmaking into the picture," Elmyra said slyly. "Oh, hey, speaking of which, did you hear about the Corporation's winter ball? They're holding it out your way this year."

"Really? No, I haven't heard anything."

"Probably hasn't reached that far yet. Well, the news is out in Midgar. There's a new little mountain resort kind of place not too far from Nibelheim that they're going to hold it in. The Crystal Room?"

"Right, the Nibarel Crystal Room. It's about halfway between here and Corel. That's where the ball is this year, huh?" The Shinra Corporation winter ball was the only company-wide social function of the year, and usually ranked as the most lavish, most talked-about party in the world. It was hosted by different Shinra property holdings, year to year--apparently this year's honor went to the Crystal Room, a joint venture with an up-and-coming entertainment mogul.

"Yep. So Reece and I will be out that way...and I can finally meet your Turk," she added pointedly.

"He's not _my_ Turk."

"Not yet," Elmyra smirked. "I'll keep my fingers crossed for ya. Talk to you later, lucky girl."

"Right, you too. Goodbye." Lucrecia hung up the phone and rubbed her temples. The ball...Vincent... It would be nice to see Elmyra again, and see how things were going with her new fiancee. Reece Logan was a soldier in the Shinra army, a straightforward, friendly young man, and though he and Elmyra were still young--he was only twenty, and Elly nineteen--their parents had all agreed they were mature enough to at least stay engaged for a year or two and see how things went. Lucrecia liked him well enough. It was promising.

The ball, though...she'd end up going with Vincent, no doubt about that. She wasn't sure whether he'd hear about it and ask her, or if she'd break down and ask him, but it was more or less inevitable that they'd go together. She'd never done those kinds of things--balls, dances, banquets--because it had seemed like a waste of time. But not now...

Lucrecia opened her notebook again to plan the next week's experiments. She couldn't forget why she was here, no matter what else happened...

  
  
  


Lucrecia had thought of it before, but it was Vincent who first brought up the idea of climbing Mount Nibel on one of their days off. They were walking in the town two weeks ago when a small group of hikers headed toward the path, sparking his imagination. They could do it, he'd insisted; why not? They'd have a guide. It looked beautiful up on the mountain, he'd said as they walked, away from all civilization. Lucrecia had agreed that it would be an adventure...

Shielding her eyes against the glare of the early-morning sun, Lucrecia looked up at the path. It was cold at this hour of the day, though even on the higher slopes of the mountain there was little snow. They were fully suited up for the climb in rented gear. She remembered her odd mental image of the Turks climbing in uniform and smiled to herself: not this time... Ahead of them on the path knelt their hired guide, a young villager, who was now rummaging through his own gear, tightening straps and rearranging various implements among the pockets of his knapsack. The three of them were just starting out, at the bottom of the first twisting path that would take them through the foothills. Despite the chill and a trace of drowsiness from being up at such an ungodly hour, Lucrecia felt the humming excitement of facing a new challenge.

She noticed Vincent watching her and looked over; he was smiling, faintly, and although it was still difficult to tell, he seemed to anticipate the climb as well. He reached out a gloved hand toward her, and she took it and held on with a new surge of excitement. She tried not to grin like a fool, though she half suspected he wouldn't mind.

"All right, people," the guide called. He turned to face them, both thumbs hitched under the straps of his knapsack. "My name is Jonathan and I'll be your guide for today. Listen to my advice, or you're likely to end up in interesting patterns at the bottom of a ravine. The weather looks good today, not much snow, so we should have a pretty good time of it. There aren't many aggressive animals on Mount Nibel either, as far as we know. Just follow me, stick to the path, and don't do anything stupid. Are there any questions?" He paused for an instant, a formality more than an actual request for feedback, and wheeled around to face the path. "Move out."

Jonathan hiked on, apparently oblivious to their presence, and Vincent and Lucrecia walked a short distance behind. Vincent had shown no signs of letting go of her hand. He hadn't forgotten about it either, though; he even swung their hands a little as they wound up the first twisting, gently sloped section of the path. Lucrecia studied him, surprised. There was no mistaking his expression now. Lucrecia squeezed his hand, and he looked up. He quickly looked away again, embarrassed, but in that instant she'd seen all she needed to see. _Anticipation for the climb--but more than that. If I didn't know better I'd swear he was...happy._ "Glad to be out in the open air for once, instead of stuck guarding a bunch of mad scientists in their stuffy old mansion?" she teased.

Vincent chuckled. "That...and the way the sunlight looks this morning, and the promising start of this little adventure...but mostly..." His voice dropped, so that only she could hear him. "Mostly glad that I was so lucky as to talk one of the mad scientists into coming with me." Lucrecia stared, as excitement and nervousness fought for control of her mind. Vincent looked up at her, noticing her stunned silence. "Are you glad you were talked into it?" he asked, in that same tone, which sounded much less serious than it actually was.

"Of course I am," she answered immediately. "And I...well, I didn't really have to be talked into it."

"I thought you might not. But I didn't want to flatter myself..." He added something under his breath, which she only half heard; she could have sworn it was _...or hope too much._

_What does that mean...?_ she thought. _It couldn't be..._

Vincent sighed, looking up at the trail; it had straightened a bit and was beginning to slope upward much more steeply. "Whether or not anyone was persuaded, we're here, with a mission to accomplish." He squeezed her hand a little, then let go of it, the better to keep his balance on the rockier ground. "It's better for me now than it could ever be if you hadn't come," he said quietly. "That's all."

Now that Lucrecia didn't have to fear that her shaking hands could be discovered, excitement won over nervousness. She had a sudden, crazy impulse to hug him, to charge up the trail as fast as she could, to shout into the cold morning air. "Thank you. That's so nice of you," she admitted. "And I'm glad you came, too."

"Really?" Vincent paused, looked back at her. The doubt in his eyes faded away, replaced by an excitement to match her own. He reached out and grabbed her hand, and charged up the hill, pulling her along with him. Lucrecia gasped and then laughed in delight. She caught her balance and ran with him, feeling silly and light and powerful, feeling elated, feeling young....They dashed past Jonathan, the guide, almost knocking him out of the way. "HEY! What do you think you're doing?! Stay behind me!"

"Keep up, then!" Lucrecia shouted back. Vincent was already slowing down, though, and the guide caught up, red-faced and furious.

"Why do you bother hiring a guide if you won't listen to a word I say?" he demanded. Lucrecia was too out of breath to answer. She leaned against the rock wall behind her for a minute as Vincent apologized to the guide.

"Are there any dangerous spots ahead of us?" he was asking.

"No, not any more than the rest of this part, but you're likely to get lost or fall if you don't watch out. Besides, coming up is the overlook over the new Reactor--you could have run right off the edge."

"Somehow I doubt that."

"Yeah, well, it could've happened. I'd've been fired, and you'd've been dead. And for no good reason. So just listen to me, all right?"

"Fine, fine. Go on ahead."

"Good," said the young guide, a little sulkily. "Follow me."

For the next hour they hiked up the path, as the pale morning sunlight grew brighter and warmer. Vincent asked Lucrecia about the reactor the guide had mentioned, which had opened on the upper slopes of Mount Nibel less than a year before. As they walked, Lucrecia explained what she knew of the Reactor Projects and the future of Shinra Inc. in the power industry. Vincent asked a great deal about Mako power--how the reactors worked, what impact they had on the health of the people nearby, how long the energy source was expected to last. Lucrecia told him what she knew, and debated the points with him at length. He was about to ask another question when the guide stopped suddenly, warning them back from the edge of a cliff.

Lucrecia walked up behind the guide and looked down off the cliff. It overlooked the side of the mountain, where the ground flattened out--or had been flattened out--into a small plateau. Built into this plateau was a small, functional-looking building, which hummed quietly in the still air: the Nibelheim Mako Reactor.

The three of them gazed down at the reactor from the cliff edge. It seemed so official, unassuming, businesslike...so _inert_. Lucrecia shaded her eyes and studied the scene more carefully. The ground around the reactor, and the rock faces around it, seemed different from the breathtaking peaks they had traveled through so far. Around the Reactor it seemed...grayer. Harder.

Less natural.

Tired of the sight, the guide turned back toward the path. Lucrecia heard the low, reptilian growl just before the guide started screaming.

Lucrecia and Vincent wheeled around. Lucrecia froze. Behind them on the top of the cliff crouched a beast so huge, so menacing, that it seemed to have crawled out of a nightmare. Its batlike wings beat at the air for balance as its muscled limbs propelled it forward, toward the three intruders on the cliff edge.

In the insane fear of the moment, Lucrecia could not even remember the beast's name. It was not until the guide screamed it, in a barely recognizable wail of panic, that the word clicked into her brain. "_Draaaaaaagooooooooon!_"

The guide lunged down the downhill path, running as fast as he could and throwing off his pack as he did so. The dragon whipped around after him, turning its side to the cliff edge. And in that instant of hesitation, the world turned upside-down.

She felt herself slammed against something, almost suffocated. Whatever suffocated her also muffled a rhythmic sound that reverberated against the rocks like thunder. An unholy screech rent the air from somewhere high above as the explosions went on and on. When the explosions stopped, the hold around her head loosened for a moment, and Lucrecia fought to escape. She slipped out into the daylight to find that Vincent had grabbed her and held her against him to protect her and muffle the sound; he was efficiently reloading his service pistol as the dragon, bleeding from its ribs and chest, reeled back in pain. Vincent saw her staring and barked, "Get down! Cover your ears!"

Too stunned to argue, Lucrecia crouched on the ground at the cliff's edge and pressed her hands over her ears, intently watching the fight. As soon as the new cartridge clicked into place, Vincent started firing again, with perfect aim and almost metronomic regularity, into the dragon's throat. The beast's dark blood gushed over its scales as it lunged forward, raking its claws across Vincent's body. Lucrecia gasped, but the Turk barely reacted, still firing the rest of the round at the beast. The dragon's other claw swiped at his legs, and he was wrenched off his feet. "Vincent!" Lucrecia cried--he couldn't die, not now, not here like this...

"Stay back, I'm fine!" Vincent snapped. He climbed to his feet, reaching inside his coat for another cartridge of bullets. The dragon stared at him hatefully through its small, glittering eyes, and its sides bulged slowly, menacingly as it breathed in.

The dragon's neck snapped back into a serpentine curve, and it opened its mouth wide. The third cartridge clicked into Vincent's pistol, and he took aim directly into the dragon's mouth. The beast fell, a blaze of flame billowing from its mouth; Vincent jumped back, automatically adjusting his aim, and traced the path of the dragon's head as it fell. The flame shot into the air, tracing an arc into the empty space above the Reactor. The ground shook when the body of the beast hit it. The flame trailed off and died. Bullets spent, Vincent lowered his gun. The head of the beast hung off the edge of the cliff into space, pointing toward the Reactor. Lucrecia slowly took her hands away from her ears.

Vincent took off his heavy pack of climbing gear and dropped his pistol on top of it. He knelt beside her, gathered her shaking hands in his. "Are you all right?"

She would have pushed him away, but she could not move, paralyzed by disbelief. _This man--a killer--a trained, efficient killer--but he was so--is so--not two hours ago we were running up the hillside like children--five minutes ago he was asking me about Reactors! How can someone be so...change so... And yet to me...he tried to help me, he saved my life...but how..._

"Lucrecia..." She felt him pull her close again, this time not to shield her--was it possible he was afraid? "Lucrecia, are you hurt? Speak to me. Please."

_A killer. This is his job. This is what he does. Only most times it's not monsters, it's people. He's so good at it...so cold...so professional... This man, whom I was beginning to trust. Can I trust him? Am I safe?_ "Lucrecia, please. Speak to me." _No...no, he was helping me, his first thought was to help me...he wouldn't hurt me, he was trying to protect me...I don't need it! I don't need this killer's help, I never asked for it, I never asked for any of this..._ She felt his hand on her face, cupping her cheek. He'd taken his gloves off. "Lucrecia?" She looked up, into his eyes, and the confusion whirled and cleared; she could move again and see clearly.

Lucrecia swallowed dryly, tried to wet her lips. "I...I'm fine," she stammered.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. Yes, I'm all right."

Vincent gave a wordless sigh of relief and hugged her tight, almost too tight. "I thought the flame had hit you...I thought that monster would..."

"No." Her mind was racing, torn between two sensations: this, the feeling of his embrace, the relief in his voice; and the sight of him standing against the dragon, cold, calculating and utterly mindless. "I'm all right, Vincent, are you? It clawed at you..." She pushed him back to get a better look at him, and he collapsed back, wearily, on the ground. His coat was slashed apart, and his pants were torn and soaked with blood. "You _are_ hurt! I have to get you back to town..."

"No, don't worry about that now. Please...could you...hand me my gun? It's on top of my hiking pack."

"What?!"

"Just do it, please. I'm not going to shoot anything."

Lucrecia was about to ask why he wanted it, then, but seeing the pain on his face, she picked up the pistol from the top of the pack and handed it to him carefully. He removed a small object from the handle and slipped the gun under his coat, under his left arm--_is that it?_ she realized suddenly, _they must carry them right there, that's why it upset him in the lab..._ Vincent clutched the thing he'd taken from the pistol, concentrating, and a green aura slowly coalesced around him. It grew stronger with an eerie whistling sound, forming a ring of bright green light around him. A sparkling white light raced over his body, and the green aura vanished. The slashes on his legs had disappeared. Vincent relaxed, breathing deeply. Noticing Lucrecia's stunned expression, he held up the object clutched in his hand: a small, green, faintly glowing sphere. "Materia," he said. "Standard issue."

"They issue you _materia_ in the Turks?!" Lucrecia yelped, reaching for the sphere. Vincent sat up and handed it over. She cradled the jewel in her palm, barely daring to breathe. "I haven't seen one of these since college, when the Intro to Natural Sci professor brought one in to show us," she explained. "But it wasn't as bright as this one."

"They're mastered," Vincent explained. "Very rare and astronomically expensive. The Turks only get four of them each, just the basics, and only when we're out on assignment. And that was only after two years of persuasion, after the Turks first opened. Even now we have to pay insurance on them out of our salaries. Materia at all are so rare right now, especially after the war, that Shinra keeps a tight grip on the few it still owns."

Lucrecia gave the materia back to Vincent, and he pulled his gun out for a moment to replace the green sphere in the gun's stock. "That won't last," Lucrecia said. "People find more of them all the time, out in the wilderness, and there's talk that Shinra is working on a Mako condenser--or that the reactors can be converted to condense Mako into materia. In a few years, you'll be able to buy this stuff off the street instead of on the black market."

"That sounds dangerous," Vincent said, half smiling. "I wouldn't want to be a policeman in Midgar when that happens."

Lucrecia took a deep breath. The chaos was still dying down in the back of her mind. She looked over her shoulder at the flank of the beast, at the claws sprawled out across the ground. The rock under its corpse was dark with its blood. The guide--wherever he was--had said that there weren't many aggressive creatures on Mount Nibel. Where had this thing come from?

Vincent was looking off toward the Reactor. "I just remembered what I was about to ask you," he said.

"All right, ask then."

"I was about to ask you whether the reactors had any negative effects on local wildlife."

Lucrecia looked around at him; he looked as she felt, half serious, half joking, and almost ready to collapse. She burst out into helpless laughter. Her head fell onto her arms, crossed over her knees; she giggled, insanely it seemed, until tears ran from her eyes and the sound became a jagged sob. Vincent moved over beside her, alarmed, lifted her head gently, wiped her face with his sleeve. "Are you sure you're all right? Do you want to go back?"

Killer or not, at that moment she wanted to bury her face in his coat and let him comfort her until he couldn't stand it anymore. But the impulse passed as the tears passed. She let him dry her eyes one more time and stood up, offering a hand to help him stand with her. His head barely cleared the top of the dragon's back; she couldn't see over it at all. She looked around, at the corpse of the beast, at the cliff edge, at the Reactor far below, at the slashes in his clothes and the two discarded hiking packs. She looked up at the path, twisting up into the unknown, to the peak of the mountain, to the top of the world. She turned back to Vincent. "We're going on."

  



	10. 1.9 - Revelation

1-9. Revelation

As Vincent rested, recovering from the last lingering effects of his wounds and the fatigue of calling upon the materia, Lucrecia dug into their three packs--her own, Vincent's, and the guide's--and found enough spare clothes to keep Vincent warm. She then emptied the guide's pack and distributed its contents among her pack and Vincent's. The task cleared her head and aided her new sense of purpose. She took a long drink of water from her canteen, then refilled it from the guide's. Vincent had finished putting on the extra clothes by now. She offered him a drink of water, and he took it, drinking deeply. Lucrecia refilled her canteen again, nearly emptying the guide's canteen. She left it with the pack, stashed behind a boulder at the side of the path. They could get it on their way back. She had absolutely no doubt about that now.

When both of them were suited up and stocked up, Lucrecia led the way up the path. "Lucrecia?" Vincent asked, as the cliff dropped out of sight behind them.

"Yes?"

"We don't know where the right path is."

"We'll find it," she said. "You know we will."

Vincent smiled. "You're dead set on it, aren't you."

"Absolutely."

The sun climbed high as they hiked; it had become a bright, chilly early-winter day. The path was steeper at this point, forcing them to slow their climb. When they reached the next ledge, where the path met a step-like series of low, shingled rocks at a right angle, they stopped for a break. It had been an hour since they'd left the cliff, and the Reactor was invisible from here. They sat down on the rocks and took their packs off, soaking in the sunlight. Vincent lay back on his elbows, with his feet stretched in front of him. Lucrecia unbuckled the tightly rolled emergency blanket from the bottom of her pack and spread it out on the rock between them. She opened her pack and found some of the food they'd brought, setting it out on the blanket.

"And you managed to find a picnic lunch," Vincent said. "You will never fail to surprise me."

"I'll take that as a compliment," she replied, having regained a little of her high spirits with the return of the quest. "Here, take as much as you want. You probably need this more than me." Remembering the reason for this, she fell quiet again, nervously rearranging the supplies on the blanket.

"You seemed afraid of me," Vincent mused.

"When?"

"Just after...the dragon. You seemed afraid of me. I thought you understood what I'm trained to do." His voice was calm, but he could not disguise a hint of hurt and disappointment in it.

"I...I did. I do. I do understand," she insisted. "It's just that...I panicked, first of all, and I'm not proud of that to begin with. But I'd never seen it before. I'd never seen you like that."

"In killing mode," he said darkly. "I know what you're talking about."

"Yes. That. Seeing that rattled me, especially in those circumstances, when I didn't know which way was up to begin with. Although at the same time I knew you were doing it for our sake, in self-defense and to..." She had trouble admitting it. "To help me, to protect me."

"I was. I was doing it more for your sake than in self-defense... and partly by instinct, I have to admit. Someone I..." Vincent looked up into the sky, and his voice was resigned to the confession. "Someone I cared about was threatened, and the rest was instinct and training."

Lucrecia was silent for a moment, shocked and touched by his words. "You...care about me?"

"More than is reasonable," he admitted softly. "More than I can stand sometimes."

_You can't...but I can't reinterpret that, I can't deny that..._ "I'm doing fine on my own, you know. I don't need your help."

"I know. I'm going to give it to you anyway."

Lucrecia closed her eyes, afraid she might cry again. _I don't need it, your help or your caring, but I want it. I don't want to want it._ His words echoed in her mind. _I care about you more than is reasonable. More than I can stand... why can't I answer him? He wants to hear it, he has to after what he said. What am I afraid of? Am I afraid he won't want to hear that I feel the same way?_

_Or am I afraid that he will want to hear it?_

"Thank you," she managed to say. "I...don't know how to thank you."

Vincent looked over at her, and watched her for what seemed like forever. Lucrecia felt faintly sick with mixed anticipation and fear. What was he thinking?

"You could tell me you care about me," he said finally. "If it's true. That would more than make up for it."

"Of course it's true," she answered immediately, impulsively.

"Don't say 'of course' like it's obvious," he said bitterly. He sat up and picked some things from the picnic blanket, slid them closer to his side. He looked as if he were distracting himself.

"It is obvious...I mean..." She faltered, started again. "I don't know why you say that. I told you I understand about the job. I'm glad you want to help me, though I don't need it and I can't imagine why you'd want to. And I do care about you, Vincent." She took a deep breath. "I've never known anyone like you. And if I'm doing a bad job with this, please understand that I don't really know what to do, and I'm doing my best."

The bitterness in his voice had left. "I'm not entirely sure what I'm doing either. Do you think I go through this on a daily basis? I'm not exactly a ladies' man, you know."

"Well...you are very handsome..." Realizing what she'd said after she said it, she felt her face flushing, but Vincent merely shrugged.

"I'm antisocial. Though I thank you, and I'm glad you think that."

"You're not antisocial. You're just..." She searched for the right word. "You're a little hard to know at first. Introverted, I guess. There's nothing wrong with that."

"I know, but it's not exactly what women are looking for in their perfect man."

"That's a generalization," she argued. "Some of us don't mind." _And some of us find it maddeningly attractive. But good luck being able to say that._

Vincent smiled a little. "Thank you. I'm glad to hear that."

They finished their picnic lunch together, looking out over the mountains. Somehow they both knew that at that moment, nothing more needed to be said.

When they were finished, they cleaned up the area, stretched a bit, shouldered their packs, and started up the mountain again. They were close to the top now, though the path was almost too steep and rocky to walk. But Lucrecia was determined to make it, and her enthusiasm had rubbed off on Vincent as well. It was almost inevitable now. They would reach the top of Mount Nibel or die trying. There wasn't much question now about what to do.

  
  
  


For the next three hours, Lucrecia and Vincent struggled up the punishing stretch of rock that propped the peak of Mount Nibel against the sky. Shortly after their lunch break, the path all but vanished and the dirt and rocks under their feet turned to boulders. They took the largest boulders one at a time, hoisting their packs up first, then pulling themselves over the boulders as they'd jumped over the wall to the Shinra Mansion. They took turns going first, the first one up helping the second; Lucrecia wouldn't allow Vincent to take more than his turn, though he tried. It was steady going at first, but their pace slowed to a crawl as the day wore on and the endlessly repeated short climbs started to take their toll.

Finally, they reached a new obstacle: a vertical leap of sheer rock, some ten feet high. Lucrecia looked up past it; above it were more of the same formation of rock, stacked one above the other to the mountain's peak. She hesitated for a moment, for the first time in hours: were they even trained to do this?

Vincent looked up after her, studied the terrain. "We can do this," he said. "We just have to figure out how to do it."

Lucrecia nodded, encouraged a little by his resolve. She slid back a step to see the edge of the wall better. In a minute or two, she had a plan worked out. "We have rope," she began. "I remember taking it from the guide's pack. I think one of us can get to the top--maybe you can lift me up, I'm lighter than you are--and throw a rope down to pull the equipment up, then the other person can climb up using the rope."

Vincent thought this over. "It sounds good, if the first part works."

"Well, nothing to do but try at this point." She shrugged off her pack and dug through it to find the coil of rope. Vincent set his gear on the ground, gazing up at the rock face, then leaned against it, bracing himself with his gloved hands as if he meant to tip over the mountaintop.

"All right," Vincent directed, "climb up on my shoulders and I'll lift you to the edge. I don't think it's much taller than both of us together."

"Right," Lucrecia muttered, looping the coil of rope over her shoulder to get it out of the way. She paused for a moment, planning her climb, then set her hands on his shoulders--_stop it right now, nervous means shaky, shaky means weak, weak means fall_--and hoisted herself up to stand unsteadily on his shoulders. She felt his muscles tense, balancing under her weight, but they both remained standing. Lucrecia balanced herself against the rock wall as Vincent stood up straight, holding on to her feet. With the added height, she was able to reach the top edge of the rock. "Got it," she gasped, latching onto it with both hands. _Please tell me there aren't any dragons at the top,_ she thought as she strained to pull herself up onto the ledge. Her hold wasn't very secure, but she pulled herself up, first a better handhold, then her elbows, then her knees--Vincent pushed from under her, which made it much easier--and then she was up, kneeling on the ledge. The ledge was small, and another vertical wall awaited them, but there were no dragons. She smiled and waved down to Vincent. He waved back and clapped a few times; Lucrecia, tired but happy that her plan was working, bowed deeply.

Lucrecia then uncoiled the rope and, lacking a better support to tie it to, knotted it around her waist. She sat on the ledge and tossed the free end of the rope back down, bracing her feet against the ground and readying a good hand-hold on the rope as Vincent tied the first knapsack to the free end. Compared to the chin-up onto the ledge, she found it easy to hoist the pack up to the ledge. The second pack, Vincent's, which she'd packed a bit lighter than her own, was even easier. She untied the end of the rope and threw it down a third time. The pull on the rope this time almost dragged her off the ledge; she struggled to her feet for better leverage, leaning back against the direction of the force. She slipped forward alarmingly, but before she came close to the edge Vincent appeared, hoisting himself onto the ledge. He rolled over onto his back on the rocky ground, a little out of breath, looking up at her with that half-smile of his as she untied the rope from her waist.

"All right, now... so far you can... grow alien cells... write scientific papers... jump over walls... identify trees... make picnic lunches from nowhere... and climb mountains. Is there anything you can't do?"

Lucrecia helped him to his feet, blushing furiously. "Well...you helped me with that last part," she said. "You make it sound like so much."

"It is," he insisted. "You just don't see it." He stretched his arms and legs and took his position again at the bottom of the ledge, waiting for her to finish coiling the rope back around her shoulder. "Take me, for example. I...well, I shoot things."

"Oh, come on." She swatted his arm jokingly before clambering up to his shoulders. "You can do a lot more than that."

"In theory," Vincent said as he stood up straight and steadied his stance. "But I haven't proven it yet."

"We'll have to work on that." This ledge was a bit lower than the first, though the first part of the hoist was still difficult. She climbed up onto the top and sat down for a moment as she uncoiled the rope. "All of these pull-ups--I should have paid more attention in school," she said. "To think, I always thought gym class was a waste of time."

"So did I," Vincent replied. "Except for archery. And I wasn't too bad at running, either," he added thoughtfully.

Lucrecia pulled the first pack to the top of the ledge, smiling to herself. She wondered where Vincent had gone to school...some other time, she decided. Vincent had never told her about his past, and she gathered that it was not an accidental oversight. She tossed the end of the rope back down, then hoisted up the second pack. She stood up and found a steady stance before throwing the rope's free end down. This time Vincent's climb was easier; she barely moved from her spot. The old excitement surged through her again: they were actually making it. They were going to conquer this mountain after all.

Vincent watched her, smiling a little. He paused for a moment, standing by her, and for an instant Lucrecia thought he might hug her--but he looked away and braced himself against the next wall. Lucrecia sighed silently, half relief, half disappointment, and got ready for the next climb.

Despite her growing fatigue, the walls seemed easier to scale as they climbed further upward. The walls were literally lower; that was easy enough to explain. But almost as important was the fact that each ledge brought them closer to the peak.

Finally, blessedly, just as Lucrecia's arm muscles were starting to protest sincerely, the ledges stopped. She pulled Vincent up onto the final plateau and they stood together, struck silent. They were standing on a platform of rock, barely wide enough for five people to stand on comfortably. All around them was empty space; above them was the blue yawn of the sky; below them stretched the glorious peaks of the mountain range, the soft green valleys, and in the distance, a sliver of the sea. Vincent turned slowly, taking it all in, amazed by the sight. Lucrecia looked up, into the vast blue reach of the sky. She closed her eyes for a moment. They had made it. After all of that struggling, they had made it, to the peak, to the top of the world. There was no one but them at this moment; despite what they'd been told, they'd done it alone, needing help from no one else--no guides, no maps, no trainers. They had conquered the mountain together.

As Vincent turned back to where he'd begun, they drew together instinctively, for balance amid the breathless thrill of the ascent, and for stability against the dizzying emptiness of space around them. Vincent gazed off into the mountains. Lucrecia watched him with a growing awareness of his presence, the solidity of his body and the force of his soul... She was struck by the totality of this person, this man, who had trusted her with his life, who had saved her life as well--not in return for his own, but because he believed her life to be worth saving. This man believed her to be so able, so fascinating. He had walked with her in the twilight and trusted her with his deepest pain. He cared about her work--cared about _her_, he had admitted it, in the sunlight on the side of the mountain. _But he can't..._ the familiar protest insisted. It was quickly silenced, _Stop it. We just climbed a mountain with no other help! We're standing higher than any other humans in the world. Here...now...there is no "can't."_

Suddenly brave, Lucrecia slipped her arms tighter around Vincent, no longer holding on to him merely for balance. She buried her head in his shoulder, impulsively, and squeezed her eyes shut tight, wondering if he could hear her heart pounding through the thick coats. She felt him freeze for a moment, stunned. Then he tightened his hold on her, no longer a hold now but an embrace. They stood that way for a moment, sensing the change between them. And then, suddenly, Lucrecia felt his glove under her chin, lifting her head, and the soft touch of his lips on hers. She almost stumbled back, shaken by the wave of relief that crashed through her. She realized that she had been waiting for this, how long she couldn't tell--but more surprisingly, Vincent had been waiting for it as well. The realization washed through her and was echoed back in his eyes; he knew it too now, knew she had wanted this as much as he had and was even more afraid to admit it. They pressed harder, deeper into the kiss, almost simultaneously, caught up in the breathless granting of an unjustly denied wish. _This is real,_ was Lucrecia's first coherent thought. _For once, you aren't dreaming this, this is really happening..._ She broke away, but did not let him go. She stared at him, stunned, though a secret excitement swelled in her heart.

Lucrecia stopped doubting, at that moment. She was in love with him, with this distant, intelligent, dangerous, sensitive, and beautiful man. And she was sure now that, somehow, he was in love with her as well....

It could not be denied any longer. Lucrecia thought, at that moment, that she would never deny it again.

  



	11. Interlude 1 - The Nightmare's Beginning

Interlude 1: The Nightmare's Beginning

"First, never let it be denied that I loved Lucrecia. If I hadn't I would never have gone to the lengths—and depths—that I did. Sometimes, in the years that followed, when I was racked with endless dreams and a guilt that was never far behind, I wished I hadn't loved her. I wished her presence hadn't come into my life and shaken it into an entirely different shape. I wished she hadn't meant more to me than anything I'd known—more than my own life, by the end. But these were the desperate wishes of a desperate man, in the darkest hours known to a human soul. I loved her, in truth. I always loved her. Even as she broke my heart.

"I think, now with the distance of so many years, that the winter I spent with her was the best time of my life. It was a brief space of time, in retrospect, but back then it seemed to stretch from that moment until the end of the world. Two months, give or take, from the day I met her to the day we climbed Mount Nibel. Winter comes early to the mountains; it was three more months from the day we climbed Mount Nibel to the Shinra winter ball.

"And, after that, spring came all too soon. Four months from the ball until the day she broke my heart.

"And nine months after that was the beginning of the end."

  
  


"But all of that was far ahead of me, that winter. I knew only that moment and the wonder and promise it held. I'd never known anything so honest, so pure, as what I had with Lucrecia. I've known nothing like it since. It came into my dark life like a meteor, unexpected, brilliant, and devastating.

"I expected a routine assignment in another dreary backwater, days filled with haughty Shinra bureaucrats and nights filled with books and solitude. I didn't mind assignments like that, to be honest. They were a respite from more active duty in Midgar, from the kinds of assignments I both excelled in and despised. Nibelheim seemed like one of those assignments. It seemed quiet. It seemed uneventful. It was not.

"Even when I first became aware of Lucrecia, I never expected what eventually happened. I took little notice of her when I read the briefing files before the trip. Gast and Hojo—the highest-ranking scientists in Shinra—and two top-ranking students to assist them. Typical enough for an elite Shinra project. Three Turks were assigned to assure their continued privacy and safety in Nibelheim, a small, out-of-the-way town, well-suited for covert operations. Also routine.

"I read about the JENOVA Project during the trip to Nibelheim, or at least all I could glean from the files Shinra had given me. They were company explanations, for the most part, not the original scientific papers. It seemed like an intriguing and disturbing concept. Even the name of the project had that same inspiring, yet chilling aura. Jenova._ New God._

"And yet, even the Project did not expect what it eventually birthed…"

  
  


"I first became intrigued with Lucrecia—'intrigued' is the best word for that beginning state, some early point on the road that led to infatuation, devotion and eventually, after I lost her, to obsession—after I had my first late shift covering Dr. Gast. He was working alone in his study, and to pass the time, since I seemed interested, he told me a little about the Project. He said that one of the students, Lucrecia Gainsborough, a specialist in cells, seemed very close to a major breakthrough. He suggested I read some of the papers she'd written on the work leading up to the Project. He even lent me his copies of the papers, a very generous act; I was, after all, nothing but a Turk, a mindless bodyguard.

"Over the next three nights I read her work. Afterward, I found myself going back to the personnel files with a new interest. Lucrecia Gainsborough, born in Midgar, just short of twenty-three years old—only two weeks older than myself, in fact. Graduate student at the Academy. Specialist in genetics and cellular biology. Employee of the Research Department of Shinra Inc.

"I'd read all of that before. Now I wanted to know more.

"So I questioned the other Turks, and the Shinra Mansion housekeeper, who told me of Lucrecia's fondness for the greenhouse…"

  
  


"That winter, as I've said, was the best time of my normally dreary life, though it was that autumn when I first started to become desperately infatuated. That autumn, after I began to get to know her, I would take any chance I got to speak to her, and then worry afterwards that I'd made a fool of myself. Even during the dispatch to Corel—those insane two days that, in the end, changed so much—I traveled back to Nibelheim just to see her, heartsick and broken, craving her presence more than I ever had before. I expected her company would calm me. I didn't expect to tell her why I'd been sent to Corel. I didn't expect her to forgive me for it.

"I never expected it to affect me so much, but it did. I changed under her influence. I'd never been a sentimental person. I still don't consider myself so. But somehow, without even meaning to, she slipped past my thickest defenses. Just by being what she was—intelligent and beautiful, caring and flawed, everything I always wanted, though I didn't realize it until then—just by being herself, Lucrecia made me human. To this day, no one else has ever had that effect on me. My soul is a locked room that only she knew how to enter. Only one other person even came remotely close, but, like Lucrecia, I lost him in the end to the one creature I despised most out of all of creation.

"Sometimes, now, I find it hard to believe the way I felt around her. It seems impossible that the hopelessly romantic, anti-heroic young man who lived so enthusiastically for his beloved was actually me. But I was a different man then, even beyond Lucrecia's influence. Many very long, very dark years lie between Valentine the Turk and Valentine the monster. I was changed by the emptiness of those years, and by the devastating events that caused the emptiness. When I lost the only two people I'd ever truly cared for, from no other reasons than ambition and greed—when I saw how truly evil humanity can become—I lost faith in the world. I lost interest. In a way I lost part of my soul. Because of that loss, as well as the warped body that reflects it, I no longer consider myself a part of the human race. I am no longer Lucrecia's Vincent. I know no other way to explain it.

"But this was before that, as well… time flows so strangely now that I have no way to mark it. That winter, then. After we climbed Mount Nibel and I knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that I loved her more than anything I'd ever known. Although, in those days, that didn't narrow it down much. To my knowledge I'd never loved anything, except abstract ideas: Truth. Beauty. Solitude.

"Forgiveness…

"And now, her. In Lucrecia, I truly loved a human being for the first time in my life, and probably for the last time. After Mount Nibel she became the brightest light in my life, and, I still believe, I was somehow the brightest light in hers. I still don't know why she loved me, cold-blooded killer that I am. And I will never understand why she was convinced that she was unworthy of me.

"But in that brief stretch of time, those three months in heaven, we didn't think about that. We were content to bask in each other's company, learning all we could about each other. I still don't know what she saw in me. But for the moment I was content to know that she saw anything at all, that she was interested in me no matter what the reason. Lucrecia loved me, when no one else would. That was all I needed to be happy, for the first and last time in my life.

"At the end of the three months came the Shinra winter ball. I'd asked her to accompany me as soon as I got the invitation, a small ice-blue envelope delivered to my room in the Nibelheim inn.

"Ice-blue…but the color I associate most with that ball is crimson…"

  



	12. 2.1 - Crimson and Crystal

Part 2: _Angel/Devil_

2-1. Crimson and Crystal

_"Lucrecia,_  
_The other Turks and I are on duty tonight at the party and must report early at 3pm. No visitors are allowed, unfortunately. I will have to meet you there at five, when we originally planned to go. I am sorry for the short notice; I had no choice._  
_See you soon._  
_Vincent"_

Lucrecia folded the note again and slipped it into her small satin handbag. Trying not to fidget too much, she watched the slowly approaching ground through the gondola window. Dusk was just beginning to fall over the mountains, dimming the snow-covered mountaintops into bluish-gray shadows. The valley under them was a blaze of light. Lanterns circled the still lake in its center, reflected by the water in a sparkling parallel ring, and at one end of the valley the entrance to the Crystal Room poured silver-white light over the entering crowd. On either side, the Ropeway tracks traced their path over the mountains, each cable strung with a series of gleaming gondolas.

The sparkle proceeded, fractally, into the gondola cars. Lucrecia glanced around the car and its five passengers, at their translucent reflections in the windows. Across from her, on opposite ends of the bench, were Dr. Gast—chatting with Elmyra and looking more like a diplomat than ever—and Hojo, in a baggy rented tux. Lucrecia wondered why he'd even come, unless it were either to wheedle money from the Shinra executives or to spoil everyone else's night. Sensing her critical gaze, Hojo's cold eyes landed on Lucrecia; she swallowed and turned her attention to the opposite side of the gondola. In the middle of the seat perched Elmyra, who'd spent much of her day in Nibelheim sightseeing with her fiancee or, as she was now, talking eagerly with Dr. Gast. Elmyra looked breathtakingly pretty, of course. She'd pooled her own money with money borrowed from her parents, Lucrecia, and her fiancee Reece, and bought a sparkling golden gown and jewelry to match. She looked lit from within, glowing with excitement. Lucrecia was happy for that much. Elmyra was still young, and this was her first real fancy-dress occasion—elaborate parties and weddings were rare in the slums, and this was the first Shinra ball since her engagement to Reece. Pretty and friendly though she was, Elmyra was no more sheltered than any hardbitten slum-dweller. This was good for her, Lucrecia thought. Elmyra could use a little glamour one day a year, dressing up in fancy dresses and chatting with the people she read about in the papers. It was proof that life wasn't all smog and endless work. It was something to dream about the rest of the year.

Not that her life with Reece would be unusually bad…Lucrecia glanced across the gleaming Elmyra to her future brother-in-law. Reece looked younger than ever in his dark-green formal uniform, like a child scrubbed up to have his picture taken. He spoke much less often than usual; he was normally as chatty as Elmyra, but he seemed to be star-stricken by his fiancee's transformation. During most of the ride, he simply sat and watched Elmyra talk.

The gondola glided toward the ground. The moving mass near the entrance had sharpened into brightly colored spots, and then into individual partygoers in all their finery, moving in a slow stream from the Ropeway platforms to the entrance of the Crystal Room. Lucrecia scanned the crowd, fidgeting with the edge of her cloak to keep her hands from shaking too much. _He's inside already, you know that! Stop worrying!_ she commanded silently, but the tenseness remained.

Reece opened the gondola door and hopped out, then lifted Elmyra to the ground. Dr. Gast followed, still in midsentence. Hojo crawled across the bench after him and leaped from the car. Lucrecia pulled her cloak around her against the sudden gust of cold wind and stepped up to the gondola door. She stopped short for a moment, shocked. At the foot of the coach steps, silhouetted by the light beyond, stood the hunched form of Hojo, scrawny hand outstretched to help her step down. Lucrecia stood frozen for a second, staring, then regained her senses with a lurch of disgust. She stepped out of the coach unassisted and rushed past Hojo toward the door, pulling her cloak tighter around her body to ward off the chill.

As she passed through the Crystal Room front door, Lucrecia caught up with Elmyra, who was hanging off Reece's arm and seemed to have been finally awed into silence. Elmyra watched her sister as Lucrecia fumbled through her handbag for her invitation and showed it to the attendant just inside the door. "Don't be so nervous," Elmyra told her. "He'll be here. And you look terrific. Everything's going to be fine."

"I guess so, but…" Lucrecia sighed. "I don't know." _I know she's right, at least about most of it. So why can't I shake this dread?_ "I don't look terrific. Don't exaggerate."

"Oh, yes you do. You just don't see it." She squeezed Lucrecia's shoulder. "Knock 'em dead, Lucie. I'll see you later." Elmyra and Logan breezed by into the ballroom and vanished in the crowd.

Lucrecia thoughtfully slowed to a stop in the middle of the mirrored entranceway. Slowly, she turned to the mirrors beside her. She stared at the reflection, then closed her eyes. _That isn't me…it's someone you created._ She looked up again at the reflection, a young woman in a deep red, low-cut velvet gown still covered by a floor-length cloak, dark hair swept up and pinned with jeweled pins. But the face was hers, even in Elmyra's makeup, and those were her own dark eyes behind a new pair of delicate wire-rimmed glasses. She smiled, tentatively. _Maybe it is me… somehow…_

The crowd brushed by her, absorbed in its own gleaming world. Only a few noticed the young woman in deep red standing in the hall, lost in the strangeness of her own reflection. Most smiled and passed on into the ballroom, quickly forgetting her. Some watched for a minute longer before slipping by, and did not forget as easily. Only one stopped and stared, standing in the center of the hall as the crowd flowed around him. After a minute the partygoers gradually stopped walking in front of him, sensing the gravity of the gaze that connected him to her. The crowd thinned and parted between them. Lucrecia lifted her eyes to the reflection behind hers, to the silent young man in the black suit who watched her as if he could not bear to look away. She turned suddenly, her cape swirling around her.

"Lucrecia," Vincent whispered, not to address her, but as a statement of fact. He took one step forward, close enough to slowly reach up and unfasten her cloak. It slid from her bare shoulders, and he caught it and held it, his fingers tightening in the folds of the fabric as his eyes slid slowly over her.

Lucrecia smiled slowly. "Vincent." She touched his hand—his skin felt warm after the cold wind outside—and slipped her other arm around his waist. Vincent rested his free hand on her back for a moment, but did not embrace her; he almost seemed afraid to touch her. "What's wrong?" she asked, searching his face for some sign. He looked…

_Stricken. That's the only possible word. Stricken. But…is he really that shallow, that this outfit would affect him like that? He can't be…_

"Nothing. Work." _Oh._ His gaze dropped to the cloak draped over his arm. He spoke again, more softly. "And…I know it's silly, but I was afraid you wouldn't come. When I saw you here I almost thought I was dreaming; I was so surprised and you were so…" He tightened his arm around her for a moment, and his voice fell to a nearly inaudible murmur. "You're so beautiful."

"Thank my sister; she helped pick this out," Lucrecia muttered.

"No. _You_ are beautiful. The dress…just shows it well." Lucrecia closed her eyes for a moment, until the flush passed from her cheeks. _How on earth did you end up with me…_ "All afternoon I'd been worrying you wouldn't come, among other things… but when I saw you and realized you'd come for me, that you were mine for a while…" He kissed her lips impulsively, then broke away to hug the cloak against his chest. His voice returned to somewhere near normal. "I'm glad you came."

"So am I." Lucrecia brushed a strand of hair back from his face and gently pried his left hand away from the cloak. Vincent watched her almost curiously. Lucrecia held his hand in both of hers and led him down the hall toward the ballroom.

The Crystal Room followed the natural shape of the cavern, with rooms branching from the entry room through several graceful archways. The ballroom lay to the left of the entry hall. As soon as they passed the doorway, the ceiling vaulted up into the heart of the mountain above them. The rock had been smoothed and polished, transforming the naturally silver-flecked stone into a surface more stunning than any inlaid marble. The walls arched smoothly down to the level floor, which had likewise been planed and polished out of the living rock. In the center of the immense cavern was a clear space, ringed by a forest of chairs, tables draped in ice-blue cloths, and jarringly bright partygoers. On one end of the dance floor a low, broad set of steps had been carved; a small orchestra was ranged across the steps in curved rows. Their sweet, graceful music, punctuated by the voices of the partygoers, filled even this immense space, resonating from the gleaming walls.

Lucrecia turned toward the room as she let go of Vincent's hand and stopped in her tracks, dazed by the sight and sound. Vincent came up silently behind her. She felt his hand rest lightly on her arm. "Beautiful," he murmured. Lucrecia flushed, not sure that he referred to the room.

To cover her sudden awkwardness, she scanned the tables for a place to sit. Near the wall she spotted her sister in her sparkly gown, seated at a small round table with—as far as she could see through the screen of partygoers—Reece and Dr. Gast. _And Hojo, no doubt,_ she thought grimly. _I've ignored him before, and I can ignore him now…_ She turned to Vincent and nodded toward the JENOVA Project table. Vincent followed her gesture, peering through the crowd, then nodded. He fell into place beside her as they skirted the edge of the dance floor toward their chosen table.

Among the tables, the voices almost overpowered the orchestra, and the bright swirl of diamonds, satin and haughty gestures almost made Lucrecia dizzy. Vincent finally surrendered her cloak, hanging it on a rack against the wall, and pulled out one of the two remaining chairs for her. Lucrecia gratefully sank into it, an instant before regret and dread smacked into her. As she'd predicted, the table was populated by members and hangers-on of the JENOVA Project: herself, Vincent to her right, then Reece, Elmyra, Dr. Gast, and, completing the circle to Lucrecia's left, Hojo. _Just when things were going so well…_ She tugged at the shoulder hem of her gown, conscious of Hojo's eyes on her. _What is wrong with you?! Drink Mako and die, Hobo…_

"Lucrecia!" Elmyra cried, finally breaking from her discussion with Dr. Gast. "So glad you found us. And this must be…" _Don't say "your Turk", Elly, please…_ Elmyra let the statement dangle, standing up to greet Vincent.

"Vincent Valentine," Vincent supplied, and took Elmyra's dainty hand in both of his. Lucrecia monitored their expressions; Elmyra was flattered as she always was when men paid attention to her, and Vincent was the model of calm cordiality. Lucrecia's nervousness subsided. "Sharpshooter for the Turks, assigned to the JENOVA Project."

Elmyra giggled. "Is that all?" she teased, shooting a glance at Lucrecia. "I'm Elmyra Gainsborough, soon to be Elmyra Logan. Lucrecia's sister, as I'm sure you know."

Vincent nodded. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you, Miss Gainsborough." He turned to Elmyra's fiancee, whom she had dodged on her way around the table. "This must be your fiancee— Mr. Logan?"

"Reece," the young man replied, reaching up to shake Vincent's hand once his fiancee released it. "Shinra Guard, infantry second class and rising." Elmyra giggled. Lucrecia had heard her laugh before at the same hopeful joke, when Reece had introduced himself to their parents.

"Pleasure to meet you, Reece," Vincent replied, then took his seat, completing the circle of guests.

Elmyra, Dr. Gast, and Reece quickly fell back into their conversation, unintentionally shutting out the other half of the group. Lucrecia, still uneasy under Hojo's heavy-lidded stare, turned to Vincent and commented on the architecture of the ballroom. For a while they discussed the Crystal Room's architecture; Vincent seemed intrigued by the relationship between natural structure and human creation, while Lucrecia was more impressed by the ingenuity necessary to have perfected such a delicate balance. The orchestra played softly behind their voices, and the noise of the crowd gradually sank into a contented lull as the partygoers found their seats. A team of waitstaff in ice-blue uniforms circulated through the tables, taking orders and delivering drinks to the guests. The invisible lines dividing the table held firm when their own drinks arrived—Lucrecia noticed her own and Vincent's, both ice water, as well as the distressingly strong liquor Hojo had ordered, and then retreated into her cocoon of conversation with Vincent.

Before long the night had settled into what seemed to be a smooth course. The orchestra took a break as dinner was served, and for a time most of the Project members looked up at each other and exchanged innocuous remarks about the food, the music, the ballroom, and the other partygoers. Only Hojo remained silent, except for his increasingly frequent barks at the waiters to refill his drink. Lucrecia strove to ignore him, listening only to the low buzz of conversation in the background as she let herself enjoy the exquisite food—none but the best for the Shinra executives, of course, and on this one night, all of Shinra Inc., down to the guards and the file clerks, received the same.

The musicians filtered back into their seats as the guests finished their desserts and the silent waitstaff cleared the tables. Hojo had lapsed into stony silence, motioning with increasingly clumsy gestures to have his glass refilled. Dr. Gast ordered one glass of brandy for himself, offering to order for Lucrecia and Vincent as well. Lucrecia declined politely. Vincent shook his head, watching the orchestra as they readied their instruments. Dr. Gast settled back in his chair, crossing his arms across his chest, gazing contendedly over the room.

Vincent looked back to Lucrecia. A slow smile slid over his face as the orchestra breezed into their next song—a dancing song, a waltz. "Would you like to dance, Ms. Gainsborough-the-elder?"

"Do you know how to dance, Mr. Valentine?"

"No. Do you?"

"Not in the slightest."

"Would you like to try?" he asked.

Lucrecia smiled. "Absolutely."

They paused, hand in hand, on the edge of the dance floor, near the wall. Vincent turned to her and put one arm around her waist, copying the dancers already on the floor; they fumbled around a bit, and eventually put together a reasonable version of a dancing pose. They looked lovely together, Lucrecia knew; she was proud that this handsome, romantic, intense young man had chosen her to be with him, and she was glad that he liked her, that the sight of her in the deep red velvet gown pleased him. She felt enchanting and graceful, even beautiful. She felt a surge of excitement, of something approaching dizziness. This was something she'd never known before, this breathless euphoria—not even on Mount Nibel had she known, so surely, so joyously, that she was loved.

The music swept on, irresistibly, but Vincent and Lucrecia stood still, on the verge of moving. They stood that way for a few seconds before breaking down into helpless laughter.

"Now what?" Lucrecia asked.

"I have no idea."

Lucrecia kissed his cheek playfully. "Just stand with me, then. We were doing that right."

"I'd like that," Vincent replied.

They stood together, almost dancing but not quite, swaying with the music, sometimes taking soft, unpatterned steps back and forth. Lucrecia felt her mind start to drift on the lovely swell of the music, on the warm comfort in his arms. She rested her head against his shoulder, and Vincent tightened his arm around her for a moment.

His voice was quiet, but its urgency sliced through the music, through all the gleam of the night. "Lucrecia? Don't look up, I like it like this…but I have to tell you something."

"What is it, love?" she replied softly, suspicious of the seriousness in his voice; she did not want to return to earth, not yet…

"Hojo was…looking at you. Watching you. I saw him."

She sighed. "I know. I saw him too. I didn't know what to do about it."

"I do," he said tightly. Lucrecia raised her head and looked him in the face; his eyes were hard and cold, glaring toward the table where the scientist sat. "If he ever speaks harshly to you, Lucrecia, if he ever does anything to make you uncomfortable, let me know. I won't let him hurt you."

_I can fight my own battles, thank you…_ She nodded. "All right, Vincent." _I never asked for your help…_ "You don't have to do that, you know."

"I do. I believe I do." Vincent looked away for a moment, hesitating. "I can't let you come to harm. I have my own reasons."

Lucrecia studied his face; it was almost blanked in his habitual Turk manner, but something showed through his eyes—something deep and almost hurtful. She held him close for a moment. "I believe you. And I thank you."

He whispered something under his breath. _I should thank you._ A small smile flickered across his face as he stepped back to look at her. "I think I've had enough of dancing for now… would you like to take a break?"

"All right."

Vincent nodded. "I should see where the other Turks are, as well. I'd like to say hello to them, even if I don't have to spend the whole evening with them."

"Somehow I don't think they'll be hard to find." Lucrecia smiled mischievously. "Just follow the trail of empty bottles."

Vincent chuckled. "Unfortunate, but true." As the song ended and another one began—a slightly faster waltz, spinning and lightheaded—Vincent and Lucrecia made their way back to the Project table.

"Where's Dr. Gast?" Lucrecia asked.

"He went to talk to some other scientists from Midgar," Elmyra answered. "Lucie, you looked so sweet! You two make a lovely couple."

Lucrecia glanced at Vincent, blushing furiously. "Thanks, Elly." She took her seat, glad that her sister and future brother-in-law hadn't yet left to dance. "Neither of us can really dance, though."

"Oh, we can teach you. That's not hard."

"We?" Reece interjected. "Who's the expert here?"

Elmyra giggled. "All right, all right, _I'll_ teach them. You can just demonstrate, sweetie." They shared a quick kiss on the lips. Lucrecia smiled slightly, warmed by their obvious affection for one another. Hojo drained his glass and waved for another. _As long as it keeps her away from…_

"In any case, we'll have to wait for the lessons," Vincent said. "Could you all excuse me? I'd like to speak to my colleagues for a moment."

"Certainly," Elmyra said. "Have fun." Vincent nodded and melted into the crowd. Elmyra smiled when he'd left. "Colleagues! The Turks?" She laughed kindly. "He's so polite, though; he _would_ call them 'colleagues'… Lucie, how on earth did you find that man?"

_If you only knew how many times I've asked myself that…_ "I didn't. We sort of found each other. Maybe it was fate…" _I've never believed in fate, though. I never had reason to believe in it…_

"How romantic… or maybe, when you met each other, you somehow knew without realizing that each was just what the other needed."

_I'm not what Vincent needs. I'm not the dark queen he deserves…but he's what I…_ "Maybe."

"I think so." Elmyra squeezed Reece's hand where she held it on the tablecloth. "All this talk of romance makes me want to dance, sweeting. What do you think?"

Reece nodded. "Sure, honey." He stood up to pull out Elmyra's chair.

"Can't let the old folks outdo us, now, can we?" She smiled impishly at Lucrecia, who pulled a face at her, unseriously. "See you later, Lucie. Tell your lovely Turk to save a dance for me."

_That'll be the day,_ Lucrecia thought darkly. Elmyra waved as she and Reece headed for the dance floor; then they were gone. Lucrecia looked back to the table. She was alone with the slumped form of Hojo.

For a long, tense minute, the table was quiet. The conversations around them flitted through the air like half-heard radio transmissions from a foreign land. The orchestra still played, but it sounded very far away. Then Hojo spoke. His voice was muddied by the liquor, but his habitual low level of menace remained unchanged. "You did look lovely out there, my dear. You and—that Turk." He threw out the name as if it were an insult. Lucrecia sat motionless, frozen by anger and the strange cadence of his voice. "You'll make a fine wife someday, with a fine litter of children… pity. You could have been a great scientist."

Lucrecia stared, too stunned to move. Vincent arrived behind her and rested his hand on her bare shoulder, and the sudden change snapped her back to her senses. She rose to her feet, hands clenched at her sides. "How dare you," she hissed. "I _will_ be great, Hojo, greater than you'll ever be. I'll be remembered long after you're dust! Who do you think you are, you pathetic, sniveling little man!"

"Lucrecia…" Vincent whispered in her ear. "Maybe it's best we get away from him now."

Her anger flared up; she could not be interrupted now. The slight had to be avenged. "Look at you," she spat, flinging her hand toward the slumped scientist. "Alone and drunk at the world's finest party. No one would care if you drank yourself to death, Hojo. You'd be doing us a favor." Vincent pulled on her arm, trying to draw her away from the table.

"Yes, try and save her, Turk!" Hojo smirked, a little too loudly. "Try and save her from herself, from her own stupidity! That's one thing your gun can't take care of, isn't it?"

"You'd best watch your words, Hojo," Vincent said, and his voice was the voice of the Turk on the cliff edge, the voice of steel and endless chill.

Hojo laughed harshly. "What are you going to do, Turk? I'm your supervisor, you know that. Don't bother threatening me."

"You may supervise this Project," Vincent said evenly, "but you have no power over _me._ Being fired would be a fair price for the privilege of bashing your skull in, should you continue to cause her pain."

"I'll cause her all the pain I want!" Hojo blared, knocking over his glass as he lurched to his feet. "And not you, nor the girl, nor the Project—no one will stop me!"

"Hojo!" The voice stopped all of them in their tracks. Dr. Gast reappeared, his normally calm blue eyes sparking with anger. "Stop harassing the students! And sober up. This is a formal function; your conduct is a disgrace to the Project."

"The Project is a disgrace to the Project," Hojo muttered indistinctly. He glared up at Lucrecia and Vincent. "Be glad you have him, girl," he said. "It's more than you deserve." He wheeled around and stumbled off into the crowd.

Dr. Gast turned to them helplessly. "I'd like to apologize for my colleague," he began.

"No need, sir," Lucrecia replied, as the anger sank under a rising wash of despair. _More than you deserve. Is it that obvious?…_ "I know you can't control him."

Gast nodded. "Thank you for understanding. Still, it's unprofessional, and it reflects upon my Project. I can't let him go unchecked."

"Best of luck to you, sir," Lucrecia said.

Vincent pulled out a chair for her, and she sank slowly into it. He sat beside her and took her hands in his. "Are you all right, Lucrecia?" She closed her eyes over the sting of angry tears. "Please. Don't let that man get to you."

_I try not to._

But she could not answer.

She heard a flurry of rustling skirts behind her, and an anguished gasp, "Lucie…" Her sister's slender hands rested comfortingly on her shoulders. "I saw you fighting with that rude man…are you all right?"

Lucrecia nodded, not trusting her voice. Elmyra bent down and hugged her around the neck; the gold butterflies in her hair lightly scratched Lucrecia's ear. The tears pushed harder against Lucrecia's eyelids, but she refused to release them. _You used to hug me like this when we were children…What happened to us, Elly? They call the slums dismal, but it was never as dismal as the world is now…_

"Pay him no mind," Elmyra said, quietly but firmly. "Hear me? He's just a bitter old man, and he's probably jealous of you and Vincent, since you're having a good time. Don't you let him get you upset, Luce, it's not worth it."

_Worth it…what's not worth it, Hojo or me?_ Lucrecia tried to clear her mind and breathed deeply until the tears subsided. She opened her eyes; Vincent still sat in front of her, holding her hands in his, watching her with quiet concern. He smiled faintly as she recovered her composure, and ran the back of his hand lightly over her cheek. "To me you're more than deserving," he murmured. "Nothing else matters."

_I wish I believed that._

She swallowed, clearing the last of the lump in her throat. "Thank you," she said, only a little unsteadily. "Both of you." She squeezed Vincent's hand, then reached behind her to hug her sister. Elmyra sighed contentedly and stood up.

"There's my girl," she said. "Now, do you want those dancing lessons or not?"

Lucrecia smiled in spite of herself. "Sure."

The Gainsborough sisters and their respective paramours made their way to the edge of the dance floor. For a moment they hung together uncertainly as couples, hand in hand, but then Elmyra let go of her fiancee and took a hold of Vincent's arm. Lucrecia's stomach clenched and her eyes swam. Her hands tightened into fists among the folds of her skirt as Elmyra drew Vincent toward the floor. She barely felt the warm hand on her arm. "Lucrecia?" a voice wavered in her left ear.

She wheeled around. "_What?_" she yelped, her voice breaking.

Reece jumped back half a step, jerking his hand away. "N-nothing…I—we were just going to show you how to waltz, that's all…"

Lucrecia looked away from the stammering Shinra guard. Her vision sharpened again; she could see the polished stone floor, the deep red velvet of her gown—she smoothed out the wrinkles her fists had made as the humilated flush faded from her cheeks. _Don't look up. Don't think about it._ She focused on Reece, who was nervously wiping his hands on his dark green dress trousers and watching her with a worried look on his face. She willed the hunted look away from her eyes and forced herself to breathe evenly. _Don't get too upset, nothing's happened… stop it! You're acting like a maniac…Vincent has no interest in her…just remember that…no interest, none…despite the fact that any red-blooded man would—Stop it!_ She swallowed, cleared her throat. "Sorry, Reece." She was finally relaxed enough to smile.

"Are you all right?" She detected his barely suppressed urge to add "miss" to the end of the question.

"I'm fine." _So far._ Lucrecia held her hand out to her future brother-in-law, a peace offering, to calm their jangled nerves. He took her hand, a smile breaking over his young face. They walked together onto the dance floor, next to Elmyra and Vincent. _No interest, remember? He's not even her type, despite the fact that he has a pulse—stop it!_

Elmyra spun around, her gown billowing around her feet, and faced the others like a first-grade teacher. "All right now, Reecie, you show Luce the basic three-fourths step, and I'll show Vince."

"Vincent," Lucrecia and Vincent both corrected automatically, though Vincent added, "please."

"Oh, all right, all right," Elmyra laughed. "_Vincent_ then. Hurry up, the next song's starting."

Lucrecia tore her eyes away from the sight of her sister and Vincent in a waltz's half-embrace. She allowed Reece to carefully arrange her into the same position, and slowly started to lose herself in the technique and measure that made up the underpinnings of the dance. Though Reece was awkwardly shorter than Lucrecia and had a tendency to count under his breath, he made an able instructor. After two songs Lucrecia felt she'd gotten it right; she felt more confident, more able to listen to the music rather than concentrating on counting. She lifted her head, no longer afraid of stepping on Reece's polished boots. The ball swirled around her, the glistening floor crowded with couples—young, old, skilled and tentative, dressed in uniforms, suits, gowns, beaded and feathered, polished and starched. The orchestra still played as if they would never tire; the music swelled toward the arched ceiling, echoing faintly as if in a cathedral. Lucrecia closed her eyes. _I remember this. No matter what else happens, this is what I'll remember._ Reece spun her out to arm's length, and someone caught her again; she opened her eyes to see Vincent's face.

Lucrecia suppressed a smile for the moment, asking with seeming seriousness, "Do you know how to dance, Mr. Valentine?"

"A bit. Would you care to dance with me, Miss Gainsborough?"

"Absolutely." She slipped into position, relieved to feel Vincent's arms around her again. _I could never get tired of this…no, it's this I'll remember, out of everything…_

They moved together onto the floor, gliding as one. And for the next thirty seconds, Lucrecia felt that nothing could ever stop their bliss…

  



	13. 2.2 - Retribution

2-2. Retribution

The first shot hit the chandelier that hung high in the center of the arched ceiling, raining shards of fractured crystal on the dinner tables below. The orchestra squawked and screeched and then fell silent, and the dancers froze, two by two. A murmur swept with terrifying speed through the crowd; it started on the edges, by the doors, and spread inward to the heart of the crowd. _Terrorists._

_"Attention, Shinra swine!"_ a harsh voice shouted. The partygoers tangled in confused knots, searching for the source of the voice, trying to hurry away in six different directions at once. The swirl of color became a nauseous, nervous churn; the feathers shivered spastically and the light jumped and flickered as the chandelier shivered from the impact. "Attention! Every last one of you! Bureaucrats, beggars, leeches and thieves!" From the door—from every door—stepped men and women with hard eyes and cold faces. They were dressed in rags, in peasants' clothing, in the uniforms of the Crystal Room staff. Each one was armed; most had guns, though a few were armed with swords and knives.

Vincent swiftly pulled away from Lucrecia, reaching inside his suit jacket for his gun. His relaxed smile evaporated as the empty Turk's mask closed over his face. "Go," he whispered fiercely, over the crowd's terrified rumble. "Get your cloak and meet me in the entrance hall."

"But—"

"_Go!_ They're after me, the Turks. I can't let you stay with me, it's too dangerous. Hurry. I'll meet you there. Please." He pulled her back to him, almost roughly, and kissed her lips. "Stay warm. I'll catch up. I promise."

Lucrecia nodded, her throat too tight to speak, and slipped away through the rippling crowd toward the Project table.

"_Shinra swine!_" the voice continued, as a band of the armed people stomped up onto the orchestra's risers. The musicians dove out of the way as their instruments bent and splintered under the shoes of the intruders. One of the group, a man with a scarred jaw and a fierce, almost insane look in his eyes, stood in front of the rest, and continued his tirade. "Shinra leeches, that suck the life from every town they touch! Who come in with their guns and their poisonous machines, drain the earth and enslave the people! Three months ago your Shinra bastards came to the mining town of Corel with a sales pitch for one of their death machines, one of their Mako Reactors. Some of us staged a resistance, so you, you Shinra beasts, called your attack-dogs and killed the resisters. Shot down, in cold blood, by a gunman they couldn't even see." Lucrecia stopped dead, afraid to turn around. Her mind flooded with Vincent's silent, pained face and the light under the Shinra Mansion's trees at dusk.

_On assignment in Corel._

_"You could never kill anyone."_

_Vincent…_

"You thought you could get away with it, didn't you? Thought you were above the rest of us! Thought you were above the law!" The resistance leader laughed, a clanging, merciless sound. "Well, guess who makes the laws tonight?"

Lucrecia made it to the coat rack and seized her cloak. A stutter of bullets coughed from an unseen gun, tearing the cloak from her hands. Lucrecia cried out, leaping back from the wall as the bullets gouged flying chips from the stone. "Not so fast!" someone shouted, and the crowd shrank back to reveal one of the Crystal Room waiters—or someone who had posed as a Crystal Room waiter—carrying a machine gun and smirking. The waiter turned to watch the speech, satisfied with his display. Lucrecia snatched her cloak from the floor, bundled it into her arms, and dashed through the crowd toward the back of the ballroom, crouching low.

"Hear this, Shinra slime! You will pay for what you have taken from the people of Corel, from the people of Midgar, from the people of Wutai—those people you tried to crush, but will rise again, in a battle as none of us have ever seen! We are no longer at your mercy! _You are at ours!_"

Lucrecia had just enough time to duck behind a polished stalagmite at the back of the ballroom before the Turks opened fire.

They had last been seen huddled over the bar, five of them without Vincent, the sole straggler. Now they seemed to be everywhere, fanned invisibly through the crowd. Maybe the alcohol had not yet clouded their senses—or maybe, knowing the risk, they hadn't drunk as much as they seemed to drink—for in those first few seconds, resistance fighters fell in their tracks, one after another, instantly, as if a switch had been thrown. The Turks, anonymous in the suited crowd, fired with mechanical precision. Not even when the crowd began to trample toward the door in blind panic did the Turks hit a Shinra employee by accident.

The resistance needed no such accuracy.

They stood in small clumps for the most part, and the first row of each fell, wounded or killed by Turk bullets; the second row froze for a moment, stunned, staring at their fallen comrades, at the screeching mass of fleeing executives, mechanics, and copy clerks that packed the hall. After this moment of silent realization, they began to return fire.

The crowd's jabber of fear rose to a scream as the fighters surged forward, as the blades whirled and the guns rapped out their rhythm of destruction. The Turks continued firing, and a few army officers unsheathed their ceremonial swords and took on the knife-wielding terrorists, but the crowd remained largely undefended. Some of the partygoers ducked instinctively to avoid the bullets; some were trampled as almost a thousand Shinra employees strained toward the only exit.

_"Get the Turks, you idiots!"_ the leader shouted, just before a Turk bullet struck his shoulder. He sank to his knees, stumbling down the steps of the orchestra riser.

Lucrecia's breath seized in her lungs. She was crouching against the base of the pillar, a mass of rock wide enough for two people to hide behind—but bullets were already flying past, ricocheting off the walls and from the stalagmite itself. Her heart pounding, Lucrecia looked back toward the door and its hopeless tangle of limbs and cloth and flashing jewels. _The entrance hall…but there's no use going there now, it's a death-trap. Wait until the crowd thins, you can make it then…but now?_ She glanced around her, along the back wall of the ballroom. Nothing but tables—many with terrified Shinra cowering under them—and to her right, a solid marble bar. She focused on it: some twenty feet wide and three thick, no bullets could penetrate it, and it stood parallel to the back wall, shielding the space behind it from almost all firing angles. _There._

Lucrecia unfurled her cloak and wrapped it around her, more for a feeling of security than for any protection it might have afforded. She closed her eyes, prayed that she would make it to shelter, prayed that the rebels would not find Vincent. With these thoughts filling her mind—she would not allow herself to think of bullets—she launched herself from the shelter of the pillar, her cloak and its tattered hood flying behind her. For five seconds there was nothing but the chaos of the ballroom on her right side and the pounding of her fine slippers on the glinting floor. The edge of the bar whacked into her right arm, exploding bright shimmers of pain behind her closed eyes. She dropped to her knees, curled up as tight as she could, head on her knees, gripping the thudding pain in her arm, feeling the solid oak cabinet behind her back, knowing that it was backed with even more solid marble. She'd made it to shelter. For the moment, she was safe.

A voice murmured over the distant chaos of the ballroom, mushy with drink and unmistakably nasal. "Why…fancy meeting you here, Lucrecia Sir."

Lucrecia opened her eyes.

In the most protected spot, where the bar angled into a corner, the closest point possible to a fortress within this madhouse of violence, Hojo huddled with one bony hand wrapped around a half-empty bottle of spirits. His eyes were bloodshot and watering, but his voice remained calm.

"Looks like your hero's going to get himself killed tonight," he observed with more than a trace of pleasure. "Pity." Lucrecia's stomach churned with fear and with loathing for this man, the last person in the world she wished to see at this particular moment. She pulled her cloak tighter around her body as if it would shield him from his eyes, from the insane, amused calm of his voice. "Then again, that might not be so bad. I've been thinking about you, Lucrecia. I may revise my judgment of you. You may yet be useful to the Project…"

_If I kicked your sorry head in, would that be useful to the Project?_ Lucrecia thought, but she remained unmoving, half immobilized by fury, half mesmerized.

Hojo lifted the bottle to his colorless lips and drank, spilling translucent amber drops onto his starched shirt front. "The Project is not what it should be," he continued with that same detached calm. "The Project has lost its focus."

"It hasn't," Lucrecia whispered, and repeated, indignant and afraid: "_It hasn't._"

A smile crept slowly across the scientist's face. "It hasn't?" He chuckled softly, with a sound like grinding machinery. "What have _you_ found in the last three months?"

Lucrecia's heartbeat speeded up, and an angry—or was it embarrassed?—flush washed up into her cheeks. _Nothing. You know as well as I do that it's not turning out as planned…_ She'd spent the last three months struggling to advance her last great discovery, but had uncovered no reason for what she'd found. The cells held their mystery tightly; she had spent the last three months and all of her skill prying into them, with little success. She'd found a phenomenon, but no explanation. As a discovery it was tabloid stuff, with no real scientific weight. Incomplete. Unpublishable. _A failure…_ "We just need time," she said tightly.

"Time, money, bureaucratic say-so, materials, workers, and leadership." Hojo snapped his fingers. "Easy as that!" He laughed harshly and took another slosh from the bottle, wiping his mouth on his tuxedo sleeve. "Gast is killing the Project. He has no sense of what it needs to survive. He's a damned bureauc-crat," he said, stumbling over the word. "He has no dedication to science. None of you do. Between Gast sucking up to any Shinra in a suit and that little Chemistry bastard and you, the new village slut…"

Lucrecia felt the blood rushing to her face as she slowly rose to her knees. She had to hunch over to avoid being seen from the ballroom, but she still looked down on Hojo's slumped figure. "If you _ever_ say anything like that again…"

Hojo's smirk did not change, though he avoided her murderous gaze. "What are you going to do? I'm your supervisor and you damn well know it."

_I could bring you up in front of the Conduct Subcomittee, have you sued, or maybe just kill you in your sleep… but you won't, will you, village slut?_

_Shut up, I've never…_

_Shut up. Just shut up! He can't say those things, not about Dr. Gast at any rate…Why don't I fight back? Why can't I…_

_He's my supervisor…he holds the power here…but…_

_I can't even handle my own project…_

Lucrecia lowered her fists, her breathing slowing. She turned away, listened to the chaos in the ballroom. The shots were slowing down, almost taken over by the hum of the fleeing crowd and the agonized groaning of the wounded. She saw the refugees under one of the tables dashing for the door, and realized there was no way she could wait any longer.

Without a word she launched herself from behind the bar, dodging tables, almost blind from a sudden wash of tears. The crowd still pressed against the exit, but it was smaller and a bit calmer; most of the rebels in the room had been shot or disarmed, or had fled. The room was in shambles, tables and chairs broken, walls scraped and chipped. The ice-blue tablecloths and the polished crystal floor were stained with slow drips of blood.

Lucrecia pushed her way into the crowd near the entrance and fought her way through the door, jerking to a halt more than once as someone stepped on her gown or pinned her cloak to the wall in the confusion. She shook away the tears as her irritation and fear both grew—what if Vincent didn't make it to their meeting point? What had happened to Dr. Gast and Elmyra and Reece? She pulled her skirts up a bit, to keep them from being stepped on again, and elbowed her way through the crowd, pushing toward the entrance hall. The front door was wide open; the entire population of Shinra Inc. moved in a sea of sick fear and insane glitter toward the darkness outside. The wind blew in, biting cold. Lucrecia held her cloak closed with one hand as she drew closer to the exit. She worked her way toward the mirrored wall—now cobwebbed with bullet holes and the frantic pushing of a thousand fleeing Shinra—where she'd first seen Vincent, four hours and a lifetime ago. Her heart thudded with anticipation—_let him be here, just let him be here, please…_

The spot was deserted. Lucrecia slumped against her own shattered reflection, exhausted and anguished.

_"Lucrecia!"_

Her head snapped up. "Vincent—"

Vincent broke from the crowd, his black suit wrinkled, his hair falling over his face. His gun was still out; he shoved it into his coat as he stumbled toward her. He fell into her outstretched arms and held her so tightly that she could hardly breathe. Lucrecia was sure she felt him shaking. "You're all right," he whispered. "Lucrecia, you're safe…"

"So are you," she replied. "You were out in the middle of it…I was so worried…"

Vincent did not reply. After a little while he was able to let her go, and they ran together into the night.

The crowd continued to flow from the doors, a random stream of terrified humanity, and huddled, freezing, on the Ropeway platforms. The overloaded Ropeway gondolas strained, slowly lifting away from the ruins of the Nibarel Crystal Room. When the last Shinra had left, the rebels emerged in a limping but grimly triumphant group. The lights had gone out; the lake reflected only the moonlight and starlight. The reflection shimmered as the rebels hacked through the Ropeway cables and sent them slithering into the lake. The rebel band shot out the light in front of the entranceway, and, their task finished, disappeared into the dark mountains.

  



	14. 2.3 - Night's Calm

2-3. Night's Calm

Lucrecia fled up the stairs and unlocked the door of her room at the Nibelheim inn, her freezing hands feeling clumsy and cold around the key. She left the door open, running across the room to the window that overlooked the town square. Lucrecia flung the window open and leaned out into the icy night to pull the shutters tightly shut. She latched the shutters, closed the window and locked it as well, and turned back to the dark room, still shivering. The warm yellowish light of the table lamp flooded the room. Vincent stood by the table, watching her.

"Did you lock the door?" Her voice was steadying now, as well.

"Yes."

"Thank you." She took off the half-shredded cloak and tossed it on the bed. Vincent rushed toward her, impulsively, and hugged her tight. Lucrecia held on to him, reassuring herself that he was truly safe, and breathed deeply for the first time in what seemed like years. Her shivering gradually stilled, as the warmth of the room soaked into her skin and Vincent's presence calmed her. The threat of any harm seemed distant now; Vincent would not let it reach her. _I never thought I'd like that…strange how things turn out, I suppose. I don't need it, but…I like it. This man would risk his life to protect me…what did I do to deserve something so unbelievable?_

_Don't think about that, not now…just be grateful for it._

"Thank you," she said, unsure of what to say.

Vincent nodded. "You're more than welcome, of course."

Though she was beginning to feel safe here, with him, the night still reeled through her mind in a blur. She couldn't shake the sights: her first stunning vision of Vincent in his black suit, the swoop of the dancers across the shining floor, the shattered fragments of the chandelier raining on the ballroom, Hojo's drunken vigil behind the bar…

_Hojo. Next door. Right behind the wall…_

"I have a favor to ask you," she said.

"Anything," he replied.

"Tonight, after what happened, please…" Her voice faded to an embarrassed whisper. "Don't leave me alone."

Vincent's breath caught in his throat for an instant. "Of course…I…don't want to be alone, either." He let her go and turned away, pinning his right hand under his left arm in a gesture that was beginning to become familiar. Lucrecia followed him, put her arms around his shoulders from behind.

"It's all right," she said quietly. "Don't be ashamed. I know how you feel. I've always been alone, too…"

Vincent's head dropped, and from the faint tightening of his muscles she wondered whether he fought back tears. "But you didn't earn it," he said, without explanation. "You're sure you won't mind my staying?"

Lucrecia smiled. "Mind? I won't _let_ you leave." She rose up on her toes to kiss his cheek and then slipped away. Vincent turned to look at her; the worry in his eyes was fading. Lucrecia took a seat at the table and slipped off her narrow shoes. Vincent slowly took the other seat at the table and watched her silently. She unlatched the delicate necklace and let it slither from her hand into a small gold puddle on the tabletop, then took the tiny crystal earrings from her ears. She pulled the jeweled pins from her hair, letting it fall in a mass around her shoulders, and noticed that Vincent was watching her. She smiled with a trace of mischief and jabbed the pins toward him in the air, like a dart-thrower taking aim. "And just what are you looking at, may I ask?"

Vincent finally let a smile steal onto his face. "Nothing…just wondering how the most beautiful woman in Shinra can manage to look even lovelier without all of that…" His fingers sifted through the fine chain on the table. "…glitter."

"Hmph." She set the pins down next to the other bits of jewelry and leaned back in her chair. "I don't know about most beautiful, but you'd be amazed at the power of comfortable clothes."

Vincent's amused gaze flicked over her deep red gown. "You weren't comfortable?"

"Well, this is all right…" She brushed at the skirt of the gown, feeling the strange roughness of the velvet against her fingers. "A little cold, that's all. But those shoes were killing me." She looked up at him, still in full formal dress. "What, none of your clothes are uncomfortable? You're lucky."

Vincent shrugged. "I'm used to most of it."

"You can get comfortable, you know. Nobody's watching."

He looked down at the table, though his smile deepened a shade. "You are."

"Oh, don't be silly," she mock-scolded, getting up from her chair to kneel by his. "Or actually, _do_ be silly. Here." Lucrecia yanked his feet out from under him and pulled his dress shoes off, tossing them under the table. She tried not to think what they might be splattered with. She stood beside him, resting her hand on his left shoulder; she could barely feel the strap under his jacket. "And you have to lose the holster. The jacket and tie, too."

He chuckled. "Anything else?"

"No, that should do it," she answered breezily. "It's a bit early to strip you naked, don't you think?" They both laughed, a bit uneasily. And not without reason, Lucrecia thought. In the five months they'd known each other, they'd never spent the night together. Though she'd asked for—and wanted—only companionship tonight, protection from the horrors of the past, it still called up some unsettling questions. But there was time enough to worry about that later…

Lucrecia took her seat again and stretched her legs out under the table as Vincent self-consciously took off his tie, jacket, and pistol holster. He hung them neatly on the back of his chair, then stretched his arms over his head for a moment. "Happy?"

Lucrecia smiled. "Very nice. Now don't you feel better?"

"I suppose so," he admitted. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." Lucrecia thought again of his shoes, and what she'd seen on the floor of the ballroom. No matter how often she tried to divert it, her gaze was drawn to the shoulder holster that hung from the corner of his chair. _May as well dive in now; we can't avoid it forever…_ She sighed, nervously rolling the hairpins between her fingers. "I wanted to ask you some things."

Vincent looked down at his folded hands. "All right," he said calmly.

"Whew, where to start? Well…what…_happened_ tonight?"

"You mean with the demonstrators from Corel."

"Yes."

Vincent nodded. "Actually, I correct myself. I think some were from Wutai as well." He thought for a moment. "You remember that night I came back from my assignment in Corel, and we took a walk in the Mansion grounds."

"Of course."

"I almost got fired for that," he said absently. "But that's past now… That assignment involved three Turks, two from the JENOVA Project group and one from Midgar." His voice was calm as he went on, as if he were reading from a Shinra file. "We were sent to stop a demonstration against the proposal for a new Mako reactor in the mountains near Corel. We were ordered originally just as an intimidation tactic—to show up and look menacing, more or less. But something went wrong; a fight broke out, and three demonstrators were k—" Vincent swallowed, and the dead tone left his voice. He would not look at Lucrecia as he spoke. "Saunders, the Turk leader from Midgar, beat one of them to death on the spot; one died from injuries later that day; I shot the third from fifty yards away." He took a deep breath. "Shinra chastised us for not carrying out our orders correctly, but the unofficial word was that it stopped all talks of a reactor in Corel for at least fifteen more years—and that was why our mission was seen as a failure."

_Typical Shinra viewpoint…_ "So tonight…that was all revenge for what happened then?"

"Partly. There's a lot of people who hold a great deal of resentment against the Corporation, to begin with. I think it was also seizing a perfect opportunity. They had a good percentage of the enemy penned up in a room with only one exit, unarmed, and for the most part, unsuspecting. The Turks were put on alert, but that's not much when it comes down to it. The company in general was never told a word about any of it. We're lucky that the demonstrators mainly wanted to make a point and chase the Shinra out, not kill us. Otherwise, not that many would have gotten out alive."

Lucrecia remembered the man in the waiter's uniform who had shot her cloak from her hands but left her unharmed. "I see." She went over Vincent's troubling explanation. His last sentence snagged in her mind: _not that many would have gotten out alive._ "Would you mind if I made a phone call? I want to make sure my sister and her fiancee are safe."

"Oh, of course. I don't mind at all."

"Thanks." Lucrecia got up from the table reluctantly, her limbs beginning to feel heavy with fatigue. She went to the telephone on the shelf by the window and dialed to the front desk with shaking fingers. The clerk informed her that Dr. Gast and Mr. and Mrs. Logan (_the sheer audacity of that girl!_ Lucrecia thought) had all passed through some time before she had; Dr. Gast had apparently left his phone off the hook, and the Logans had requested not to be disturbed for any reason until morning. Lucrecia thanked him and left a message for both rooms, saying that she and Vincent were safe. She reported to Vincent what she'd heard, and he was suitably relieved.

The news chased away the last lingering doubt; Lucrecia returned to the table with a lighter weight around her heart. Remembering Elmyra's dancing lessons, Vincent and Lucrecia spoke about the party itself, the glorious spectacle that it was at the beginning. They discussed the music that had been played and the spirit of the crowd. They both found it interesting that the event was so expensive, yet the heirarchy of the company—usually so rigid, from the President down to the errand-runners, guards, and factory workers—seemed to be dissolved. Vincent thought it sounded like an archetypical carnival, a temporary, tension-releasing reversal of the royal state. As an example, he spoke of a week-long annual festival in Wutai that let the maids run the houses and the landowners cook the banquets, and all of the townspeople, in one crowd, watched races as the runners let young chocobos perch on their shoulders. Lucrecia giggled at the thought of it, but she agreed with his insight: where else but at an event like this could a respectable research assistant dance with a Turk without drawing odd glances, or a slum-dwelling guardsman's fiancee hold discussions with the chairman of the entire Research department?

In the warm yellow circle where the lamplight was strongest, sitting across the table from Vincent as they talked well into the night, Lucrecia put aside the horrors of the evening. They would still remain, a disturbing memory, but for the moment all was well in the world. She sensed a similar relaxation in Vincent, though not as complete; he seemed less closed as time went on, less haunted. He looked almost happy.

Lucrecia realized how late it was only when her head started to swim from exhaustion. She wanted nothing more than to take a hot bath and crawl into bed, but Vincent…

Vincent was watching her with a faintly worried expression. "You look tired," he said. "Maybe you should get some sleep." Lucrecia nodded silently, not sure of what to say. "If you want me to stay…" He looked around, and his voice dropped as he continued. "I can sleep on the floor if you like, or here at the table; it doesn't matter to me."

"No, that's all right," Lucrecia replied, feeling suddenly weak—_relief? For what? Though I think I mostly just want him to stay, so neither of us has to be alone…_ "You can sleep wherever you want." _I can't believe I just said that. What am I thinking?_ She swallowed and sifted the gold chain through her fingers again. "Um, I'll be right back." She got up—feeling dizzy for a moment when she stood—and crossed to the wardrobe. She quickly sorted out something to sleep in, bundled it under her arm, and fled to the tiny bathroom at the back of the room, her cheeks blazing.

When the door was shut behind her, Lucrecia relaxed a little. She filled the bathtub with the hottest water she could stand and soaked for a very long time, resting her head on the edge of the tub, feeling the nervousness, the madness and evil of the evening diffusing out of her skin. Her mind was clouded slightly with fatigue, but she managed to keep her floating train of thought away from the negative, daydreaming of the ball, of the hours-long conversation she'd just finished, of Vincent. When the water threatened to grow tepid, she washed the last traces of Elmyra's makeup from her face, dried off with the inn's towels, and dressed in the simple white shift she'd found in the wardrobe. She felt cleaner literally and figuratively, relaxed and purified. She wrapped her hair up in a towel to dry and brushed her teeth, starting to wonder about Vincent, worrying about his mental state—was he really at ease with what had happened, and could she help him tomorrow if he was not?—as well as wondering what would happen now. What if…_You know what you want and what you don't, now stop putting it off._

She unwrapped her hair, now nearly dry, brushed it carefully, picked her velvet gown from the floor and hung it on the back of the door. Then Lucrecia gathered her courage and opened the door.

The lamp on the table had been turned off; the only light spilled from the door she'd opened, dimly lighting the nearer part of the room. The table was deserted. Vincent lay on his back on the covers of the bed, fully clothed except for shoes and jacket, as if he'd only meant to lie down for a moment, but he seemed fast asleep. Lucrecia felt a smile tug at her mouth, watching him. He seemed so untroubled when he slept…

Lucrecia closed the door, letting only a shimmer of light into the room, drew a deep breath, and slipped under the covers beside him. She turned over on her side, facing away from Vincent, torn between wanting to wake him up and wanting to leave him to sleep. The movement seemed to stir him; she felt the blankets pulled sideways just before his arm closed around her waist from behind. He settled in against her, the covers pulled over him, his head pillowed against her neck. She'd noticed as he moved that he seemed unusually clumsy with exhaustion. _And lack of experience?_ Lucrecia wondered. _Somehow, I hope so…_

Still half-awake, Vincent nuzzled against her, kissing her throat and her hair, but despite the sudden trembling excitement Lucrecia whispered, "Please…that's all. I just want to sleep…"

"All right," he replied, sounding a bit disappointed yet content, and fell still, snuggled against her as before. Lucrecia leaned back against him and closed her eyes, dizzy with the strangeness of this, feeling indescribably safe and comforted.

"It's not you," she said quietly. "It's just too soon, especially after tonight, and we're both too tired…"

"'Course. I know. Thank you for reassuring me, though…" Lucrecia smiled to herself, in the dark, and felt herself beginning to slip toward sleep as well. "We'll have to get married, of course," Vincent murmured. Lucrecia's eyes snapped open; her body froze, perfectly still. _We'll have to what?!_ "I want to sleep this way for the rest of my life…I can't remember…being so happy…as I've been with you…on the mountain…at the ball…walking with you…"

Lucrecia turned over to face him, and instinctively he shifted his position, settling again with his arms around her. She could hardly breathe, on the verge of tears. "I don't deserve you, Vincent," she whispered thinly.

"You deserve better than me," he whispered. "But I love you anyway." The held-back tears surged against her throat, almost choking her; she embraced him tightly, unable to speak. _I want to love you, but I'm afraid to say it, I'm afraid…_ "Could you love me, Lucrecia?" Vincent asked drowsily. "Do you? Can I even dream of it?"

"Of course," she answered weakly. "Of course you can. Of course I love you."

"Don't say 'of course' like it's obvious…" he whispered, trailing off into silence as he began to fall back into sleep.

"It is obvious," she replied, knowing he was already asleep, wanting to say it anyway. She watched him as darkness stole in around the edges of her own vision. "How could I not love you…" She left the question unanswered, sinking finally into the night's deep calm.

  



	15. 2.4 - Endless Cycle

2-4. Endless Cycle

Lucrecia put down the pipette and stretched her sore neck, looking over the afternoon's notes. Research could seem so unrewarding on days like this, when the days stretched endlessly, filled with hurry-up-and-wait, shuffling samples, watching over reactions. It was her eleventh hour in the lab for the fourth day in a row, and little more could be said than this, a string of repetitive labels and references:

_Jan. 23 ct'd (st. 5:49pm)_

_Digest DNA in 0.01% sol. of Tns-10 enzyme 45 mins at 45C, see protocol p. 12._

_Prepared for run on 5% polysacch. gels, protocol p. 4. UV dye (radiation next time?)._

_Samples:_

_Lane 1: H40J = human cells + 40% J-cell preparation_  
_Lane 3: HN = human cells, normal_  
_Lane 5: JC = J-cells_  
_Lane 7: CN = Cetra cells, normal_

She sighed, stretched her cramping hands, and transferred the last sample—a mere drop of fluid, dyed dark blue—from a tube to a slot in the sheet of gelatin, lying in a fluid-filled tray on the lab bench. Lucrecia checked her notes again, marked the starting time, and hooked the tray to a set of electrodes. Nothing to do now but, again, wait. She flipped back to her earlier notes, months old now; the pages were dense with her neat black handwriting, paragraphs full of plans, objectives, descriptions of results. Photographs of test results were clipped onto every fourth or fifth page. Now… she looked over the list of the day's procedures. May as well write: _"see last week's procedures. Repeat until-"_

The door banged open, and Lucrecia startled. Hojo shuffled into the lab backwards, a metal tray in his hands. The thought flicked through her mind to hold open the door for him—but, thinking that the help might only annoy him, she simply watched him, with the queasy curiosity of an onlooker in a zoo's reptile house. She noted the contents of the tray: a simple supper, bread, broth, milk, something the housekeepers of the Mansion might make if a scientist were working late. Hojo turned, casting a resentful eye on Lucrecia, and set the tray on his desk.

"Working late?" Lucrecia asked, watching their reflection in the steel covers of the specimen tanks, reluctant to meet his glare just now. She was too tired today to deal with an onslaught of undiluted Hojo; it was all she could do to resist ignoring him entirely.

"I don't recall asking you for input," Hojo snapped. "What are you doing here?"

"DNA analysis of the experimental, Project, human and Cetra cells," Lucrecia answered shortly. _I don't even call him 'sir' anymore, do I?_

"Five percent gel."

"Yes."

"When did it start?"

"About a minute ago."

"What did you cut it with?"

"Tns-10."

"That's what Marks and Tinsley used in their comparative studies."

"Yes. It's one of the only enzymes that gives a defined cutting pattern, one we can use to tell human from Cetra."

"Hm." Hojo gazed at the bench behind her with half-lidded eyes. "Not bad." He turned back to his desk. "If it works."

_You'd like that, wouldn't you, if I failed._ Though, truth be told, a compliment from Hojo was a rare thing… "Thank you."

Hojo did not reply, cracking his knuckles as he looked over some papers on his desk. "Are you finished?"

"I need another half-hour or so, while the gel runs."

"I'll take care of it."

Lucrecia blinked. "Sir?" _There it is…_

"I _said_ I'll take care of it," Hojo replied tensely. "Take a break or…something. Go." He waved vaguely toward the door.

Frowning faintly, Lucrecia checked her setup one more time. Her hand lingered on her notebook for a moment, debating whether to take it with her, then slid off. _No need to be paranoid, especially since there's not much in it lately anyway…_ She left the lab and closed the door quietly behind her.

Her footsteps echoed down the empty hall as she tried to think of a place to spend the next half hour. There wasn't enough time to buy or make dinner, though her stomach was starting to grumble with hunger. And there wasn't much point in going back to the inn… Lost in these circular thoughts, Lucrecia glanced up the stairs to the south wing and stopped short. The greenhouse! She hadn't gone back there since the Project had started to… She crossed the landing and headed for the south wing of the Shinra Mansion, dreading what she might find. What if the groundskeeper had forgotten to take over for her…?

Lucrecia submerged herself in the hot, moist air, shutting the door firmly behind her. The greenhouse was lit by only a small lamp, hanging near the ceiling; its light reflected the interior of the room in the surrounding glass. She scanned the semicircular shelves in the half-dark. Thankfully, most of the plants seemed fine. A halfhearted smile crossed her face. At least that was flourishing, despite all the rest…

Lucrecia filled the watering can and lugged it around the shelves, checking each plant for pests or signs of disease. All seemed to be well, more or less, except for one flowering plant which seemed to have outgrown its pot. She cleared a jumble of shears, spades and stakes from the edge of the shelf—this place wasn't as neat as she kept it, that's one thing she could tackle… _It would be nice to get this place back in shape again… a project, sort of. I could handle that, at least…_

She stripped off her lab coat and hung it on the doorknob, starting to sweat in the sauna-like heat. Her mind drifted back to the day's work, the week's work, the month's, an endless repetition with only small changes—tweaks really, "improvements" that never seemed to improve anything. Time after time, the results had yielded only vague nothings and false alarms. This was supposed to be the clincher, the easy part! The hard work, finding a procedure that worked, was the challenge; she'd gotten that easily, almost without trying. This was just to confirm that it worked…

_Except it doesn't._

Cradling the flowerpot in one arm, Lucrecia pulled carefully on the plant's stem. The soil in the pot slid out in a solid mass, bound by the root fibers of the flower. She winced sympathetically; the roots were pressed against the clay of the pot and wound around uselessly, not sunk in nourishing soil. If she hadn't found it, it would have strangled itself with its own roots…even now, it might not survive. She slid the too-small flowerpot off and set it and the exposed plant carefully on the shelf. Kneeling on the dusty floor—_there's another thing to do, sweep this up_—she found a larger pot under the shelf and pulled out a sack of potting soil.

She could have gotten gloves, too, but the feeling of soft soil in her hands was too soothing to pass up; she set at the task barehanded, as her mind drifted once again to the JENOVA Project. _Is it even worth it, anyway? What are we trying to do?_

_We're following orders. Just like the Turks…But we won't kill anyone! I hope. No, we wouldn't! I'm not a murderer! Dr. Gast isn't a murderer! Hojo…_

_Is Vincent a murderer, then?_

_No…he's…a Turk…but… is that different, what he does and what we do? We're doing this for no good reason, we're hardly even doing it for the sake of science now—I'm not, anyway. I'm doing it for my career, because I was told to do it, and completing projects on time and under budget is what graduate students are supposed to do…_

_For my career, then…is that worth it?_ She bit her lip as she ladled handfuls of soil into the new pot, not noticing the strands of hair that were beginning to fall in her eyes. _Is it worth what? What am I doing, other than beating my head against those stupid cells for the last two months? Nothing… is it worth doing nothing? I'm failing… I know I'm failing, I can't handle it…That's what Hojo said… is he right? He's always freaking right, he's the smartest jerk on the planet…_

Lucrecia shoved her sleeves up to her elbows, annoyed by the stains of wet dirt that had appeared on the cuffs. _He's a heartless bastard, but it's like he can look right through you… and he's my supervisor, I have to put up with that… let's hope he swallows some Project cells and mutates into a human being._ A smirk crossed her face, a smirk that almost curled into a sneer. She started to peel the strangling roots away from the surface of the mass, so that they might be able to grow straight. …if they don't die before then. _So now what? Is my career worth this, all this dead-end cycling, this endless…endless… nothing?_

She picked up the larger pot, set the plant in it, and started to scoop more potting soil around the exposed roots. _It's not. I can't stand this. I didn't join Shinra to flail endlessly in some basement. I didn't join the Project to fail. I came here to succeed. I started this all to succeed, to become something important. I want to achieve. Discover. Create._

_I have to find a way out…_

_**Is** there a w-_

"Lucrecia."

Lucrecia startled at the sudden noise, spinning around. The flowerpot slipped from her arm and shattered on the floor in a spray of black dirt. She stared at it in shock, at the naked white roots; they looked like…

She looked up into the pinched and bloodless face of Hojo.

_…Anatomy lab. Nerve endings, infiltrating the flesh…we're powered by electricity, not Mako, wonder how many people know that?_

_What in Lifestream's name am I thinking?!_

"Sir?" _There it is again. Maybe I was wrong._

Hojo held out a small square of slick paper, a photograph of what looked like a black-and-gray blur. Across it, like a message in Morse code, stuttered a series of white dashes. The results of the DNA test! Lucrecia snatched it from Hojo's cold hands and studied it.

Lane 1. "H40J" was marked on the photograph in Hojo's barely readable hand. Human cells, treated with Project cells. Not important on its own; what mattered was if they looked different from the untreated human cells, more like the Cetra cells. If. If the treated cells matched Cetra cells, they were on the right track. They hadn't so far. She prayed, as always, that they would. If they matched the normal human cells, it was back to more tests, back into the grind.

Lane 2. "HN". Normal human cells. Her stomach turned. The dashes matched up with the first lane. No change. The treatment had not caused any genetic change… She scanned the rest of the photograph.

Lane 3. "JC". Jenova cells. Matched nothing else. Good.

Lane 4. "CN". Cetra cells, untreated. Matched nothing else. Bad. Very bad.

Lucrecia swallowed hard; her mouth felt dry despite the pressing humidity of the room. She wanted to cry, about the broken flowerpot and the strangled plant, about the bad results, about the endless, endless bad results. She remembered her undergraduate years, when she could complain, _The experiment didn't work! I did it exactly as the book said, and it didn't work. Something must be wrong with the materials…_

There were no more books now. There was nothing left to blame. She looked helplessly up at her supervisor, who should have been a guiding force, a mentor, a source of wisdom and advice when the bad days turned into bad weeks and the weeks into months, when the promising ideas that had once taken flight started to fall.

He was smirking at her.

Rage started to rise in her but quickly fermented into frustration. She handed the photograph back to him and silently started to gather up the broken pieces of the flowerpot. The plant's fragile roots had snapped when it smashed on the ground. She gathered it up anyway, kneeling on the floor. She reached back under the shelf for a new pot and scooped the plant and the soil back in place. The pot was lost, but the plant might be saved. Maybe.

She placed it on the shelf and watered it carefully, then turned back toward the door. Hojo still stood there, silent, his arms crossed over his chest, the failed results dangling from his long fingers. Lucrecia bent to pick up her lab coat, which had fallen from the doorknob when Hojo opened the door. She shoved her arms back into the sleeves, feeling exposed without it, under his critical stare.

_Stop looking at me like that, I'm not one of your test rats. I am not a failure! I will not be a failure!_

"And?" Hojo asked.

"It'll work."

A smile spread across his face, a smile that did not touch his dark and hooded eyes. "Of course it will."

  
  
  


Lucrecia stood on a cliff high above the sea, crossing her arms tightly across her chest to ward off the chilled wind. Winter was breaking, finally; the ground under her feet was bare of snow, though the grass had not yet revived. The wind that blew her coat back and numbed her face was not as icy as it had been. She watched the horizon, the line between the golden sunset and the dark depths of the sea.

"Lucrecia?" Vincent, this time. She turned, the wind blowing her hair past her face. Vincent half-knelt on the picnic blanket. Lucrecia smiled, half-heartedly, and Vincent relaxed back onto the blanket, leaning back on one elbow. He held his hand out to her; Lucrecia sighed and sat beside him, letting him tangle his fingers through hers. A small smile played over his face as he pressed his cheek against the back of her hand. Lucrecia watched him, torn between a wild, hopeless affection and its resultant trace of fear. And his affection deepened only the fear…

"Why are you like this?" she asked quietly.

"Like what?"

"This… treating me like this…" She sighed, at a loss for words. _Why am I baiting him like this? What has he done? …apart from treating me like…_ "Treating me like something… holy, for no apparent reason."

Vincent drew away, lying back on the blanket he'd spread. His voice was quiet, dampened. "No apparent reason? It's not apparent that I love you? I told you that after…after the Shinra ball. I don't tell you enough? I'm sorry, it's hard for me to say…"

"It's not that." _If you said it ten times a day I'd understand it even less…_ "I mean…why…?"

"Why do I love you? How can you ask that, after all you've done for me?"

"All I've done…what have I done?"

He did not look at her, staring up into the darkening sky. "You keep me from losing my humanity, from becoming what I hate the most." Lucrecia was silent, listening. Vincent went on, slowly, thoughtfully. "I don't even think I realized how much I wanted to find someone like you. I always sealed those kinds of things off, shut them down… I remember dreaming of it, but I scorned it, I thought it was a weakness. Maybe it was, I don't know. Maybe it's foolish." He swallowed, closed his eyes against the endless span of the sky. "I shouldn't tell you this, I guess, but I…still dream of it, in a way. I never really thought about it, before I met you. I never hoped for the future…sometimes I wished for a stray bullet to hit me, but that was all. I don't wish that anymore. During the ball, all I could think of was that I had to stay alive this time, because I had to see you again."

"Vincent…" She wanted to tell him to stop, to go on, to take it all back; she was immobilized by confusion and something very much like fear.

He went on, as if he hadn't heard her. "I don't know if you realize what you mean to me…maybe you can't realize it. Just…let me dream, for a little while. I don't see the harm in that. It's given me hope for the first time that I can live a normal life, away from darkness and death… somewhere quiet, peaceful… I've been to Kalm once or twice; maybe there. Not Midgar, I'm tired of the grime, I'm tired of not being able to see the sky. Maybe Kalm, maybe we could get a little house there. It's not too far from Midgar, if you still want to work for Shinra… but it's so much quieter, so much safer than Midgar…" Slowly, Lucrecia stopped hearing him; she had withdrawn into her own thoughts, hugging her knees to her chest protectively. _I can't believe I'm hearing this, I can't believe he's telling me this…what am I doing, what am I thinking? What is he thinking, even worse? Domestic tranquility, peace and quiet, the whole mundane dream…me? I…can't, not me; I'm not that woman, that wife and mother, the domestic goddess. I'm a scientist, a daughter and sister, not a mother…not a wife, not Vincent's…Lucrecia Valentine, oh God, do I wish… I'm not part of his dream, I couldn't be. I'm not a glamourous dream, a dark chaotic queen…_

_But he said he doesn't want that; he has darkness already, and he hates it. He wants tranquility, he wants safety. He thinks I can give that to him. Can I?_

_Do I dare?_

_No…not now…I can't take this. I have to handle my career first, I've barely gotten started…someday, when I've found my way in Shinra, gotten rid of this Project and Hojo, when my hands are clean and I'm safely above all of this… then I can settle down in Vincent's idyll…but not now._

_It's not just your career, you know that._

_Still. I can't handle this now. It's too much, what he feels, what he's telling me. I love him, of course, but I…I don't know why he loves me, I can't believe this, it's too much. I can't take it. I don't know what to do…_

She opened her eyes. Ten feet away the earth disappeared into an abyss; the sea was far away, dark and unfathomable, stretching out forever. The sky was dark now, the sun had set. The wind was growing colder, despite the coming spring.

_Someday. I'll learn how to cope. I'll learn not to be afraid… but not now._

Vincent had stopped talking. Noticing her silence, he put his arm around her shoulders and sat beside her, watching the sky. As if in response to her silent pleas, he said no more.

  



	16. 2.5 - Covenant

2-5. Covenant

_One more try…_ Lucrecia opened her notebook once again. _Feb. 28 (st. 9:01am)_ Tomorrow would mark seven months since the start of the Project. Seven months of "one more try"…

She drew a thin stack of papers from her notebook, the report she'd worked on almost every night for the past two weeks, and slid it into a black plastic binding. Shinra's logo was tastefully embossed on the front, along with a label: _Current Findings of the JENOVA Project, Shinra Inc., Biological Research Dept. #593820-J. Contributors: Dr. Theophilus Gast, Dr. Horace Jones, Lucrecia Gainsborough, Shelan Strife._

Lucrecia paused, rereading the last name. _Shelan… Lucky break, getting fired. He's probably back in Midgar in a company-subsidized apartment, working in a real lab…I remember I felt sorry for him when it happened._

The door swung open, interrupting her train of thought; Dr. Gast hurried in with a leather satchel, dressed to travel. "Ms. Gainsborough! Good morning. How's the report coming along?"

Lucrecia turned, holding the folder out to Dr. Gast as he passed. "Morning, sir."

Gast took the report and flipped through it briefly. "Excellent, excellent work." _Wait until you read it,_ Lucrecia thought darkly. "Don't look so grim, this is only a formality. More than anything, the Corporation wants to know how we're spending their money." He closed the folder and slipped it into his satchel. "So how is the Project coming along?"

Lucrecia heard a quiet scoff from the other end of the room. "It's…" _…It's reached a plateau. It's stagnant. It's …comatose._ She looked up at Dr. Gast, who'd been such an inspiration during her education in Midgar—it seemed so long ago. She remembered her dream of equalling this man's accomplishments; the way things were going now, there was little chance of that happening any time soon. Dr. Gast seemed just as self-assured and optimistic as when they'd first come to Nibelheim—as self-assured and optimistic as she herself had been. _Does he really not know?_ It was as if he'd arrived out of another world, like a tourist—or as if he wasn't really there, like a projected image, a hologram. If she told him what was happening, would he even hear her? Would he understand? "It's…" she repeated helplessly, not knowing what to say. _Dr. Gast…the Project is dead…_ "…proceeding," she finished, her eyes darting away.

Dr. Gast nodded with satisfaction, clapped her on the shoulder. "Just as I thought. Keep up the good work."

"Yes, sir." She rallied the courage to smile. "Have a nice trip."

Gast sighed in mock exasperation. "Surrounded by bureaucrats, who could? Let's hope my escort is a better conversationalist than those Midgar serpents."

_Escort?_ "One of the Turks? Which one?"

Dr. Gast nodded. "One moment, I have the orders here…" He reached into his satchel and produced a sheet of paper. "Vincent Valentine." He looked up at her, replacing the paper. "That's the one from the party, isn't it?"

Lucrecia closed her eyes for a moment, swallowing hard. "Yes, sir." _How could he leave me here—how could both of them—leave me here alone with… but orders are orders, I suppose…_

"We'll be sure to hurry back, then." Dr. Gast smiled. "See you next week."

_A week…that's not that long, what could happen in a week?_

Dr. Gast turned and left the lab, closing the door behind him. Lucrecia slowly sat down at the her workstation again. What could happen in a week? she repeated. _How could anything happen? Nothing's happened in seven months. Nothing's going to happen, at this rate._ The horrible thought rose again: _The Project is dead. And I have no one to blame but myself. I had such high hopes for this assignment…it was to have launched my career, accomplished that first big step toward my dreams. I came into Nibelheim like I could conquer the world. How will I leave it?…_

She thought again of Nibelheim, how alien it seemed compared to the mechanical gray towers of Midgar. _Being here wasn't all bad, in itself; I've had the greenhouse, and fresh air, and of course I met Vincent… so I can't regret taking the assignment. But I've lost the one thing I came here to do. I came here to succeed, to start my life of success. Instead I've…_

_"This has to be the most notable discovery of our generation! And we're in on it, Luce…"_

_…one of Shinra's most promising young scientists…_

_"I love the field I chose, and I'm doing very well in it. It's a great honor to have been chosen for this project. No, I'm happy."_

_I was happy…_

_I came here to succeed. And I've failed…_

Lucrecia pressed her hand against the empty page, willing back the tears. On the edge of her line of sight swam a shadow, a suggestion of a figure. Slowly it shifted from the periphery, drew closer. Lucrecia looked up. Hojo was leaning against her table, arms crossed.

"Since your Turk seems to be occupied," he said smoothly, "I presume you have no plans on your day off tomorrow."

_Vincent and I were supposed to go hiking… why didn't he tell me he'd been assigned?_ "I guess not."

A slow smirk crept over the scientist's face. "Why don't you come into the lab, then? I have some…discoveries I'd like you to see."

"Discoveries? But I wrote up everyone's progress in Dr. Gast's report…" Hojo's findings for the collective report were less notable than her own; his work in physiology was stalled until Lucrecia's cellular experiments had advanced.

Hojo laughed quietly, but the sound was swallowed by the heavy silence of the room. "Not everything is on the record, my dear. Not if you intend to get anything done. It's about time you learned that."

_Not on the record…?_ Unsure of what to say, Lucrecia did not reply. Hojo looked down at the blank page under her hands, then turned and disappeared from her peripheral vision.

_If you intend to get anything done…_

Part of her couldn't help but be curious.

  
  
  


Lucrecia had never really wondered what lay behind the locked side door in the basement of the Shinra Mansion. She'd always assumed it was a boiler room, or some storeroom, locked and unused since the original owners' departure. As Hojo paused outside the door, sorting through a spiky keyring, she finally started to wonder…

"Aha." Hojo held up one of the keys and looked at her with a cold gleam of triumph in his eyes. "Remember. Nothing you see or hear today exists. Even to Shinra. _Especially_ to Shinra," he corrected. "And if word happens to get out about any of this, well…" He smiled, the look of a cat with a mouse firmly trapped under its claws. "The Project will just have to have another ex-student on its record." The way he stressed "ex-student" made Lucrecia shiver. _Not a student once assigned to the Project. A former student, entirely…_ "Do you understand?"

Lucrecia nodded, her mouth suddenly dry. "Yes, sir."

"Good." Hojo unlocked the door, but did not open it. "On the other hand, you do understand that this could mean the beginning of a long and prosperous career…" He let the thought dangle, just out of her reach. "It all depends on what you think of my plan."

_My plan…don't tell me he has another plan for the JENOVA Project! Why hasn't he told us?_

_If you intend to get anything done, it has to be off the record…_

_What am I getting into?_

After a long pause, Hojo finally pushed open the door in the basement hall. He stepped inside into darkness, and Lucrecia followed, expecting the lights to come on as she did. Instead she heard Hojo cross behind her to close and lock the door. A faint quiver of fear fluttered in the pit of her stomach. The room was pitch dark, but in the darkness, close by, she could hear scratching and the creak of metal against metal. She turned toward the sound, still blinded by the dark, as the fear grew stronger. It sounded like something living, like the scratching of claws, though she could not hear any breathing but her own. She thought of the dragon on Mount Nibel, the unknown threat it promised—what if the Mako reactor had created mutants after all, what if…

The room snapped to life with a cold white light. Lucrecia startled, spinning around. Hojo's hand dropped away from the light switch; he stood behind her, with his back to the door. She looked back around and, at first, almost sighed in relief. The leftmost wall was lined with cages of white mice, a sight familiar from her semester in a physiology lab. At the far end of the room were a few larger cages, though, containing creatures she couldn't quite identify. In one she could see a curled-up mound of white fur, about the size of a house cat.

"My specimens," Hojo said behind her. "Mice and rats for the most part, standard procedure. I have begun work on greater specimens…but for now these will do well enough to illustrate." He appeared beside her, looking with a kind of smug satisfaction at the rows of cages. "Go ahead, look."

Slowly, Lucrecia approached the cages at the nearer end of the room. They were lined up neatly on three long shelves. She bent to look into one of the cages. In the cage were four white mice, as she'd guessed. They looked like regular white mice; two were sleeping, one was eating, and the last was running on an exercise wheel. She was about to ask what she was supposed to look for…when one of the sleeping mice woke and looked up at her.

Lucrecia gasped. The mouse's eyes were pink, standard color for its species. But it wasn't the dull, salmon pink of a healthy mouse. This mouse's eyes were unnaturally bright.

Almost glowing.

She'd seen that somewhere before…of course. Physiology again. It was an unmistakable sign. "Mako…" she breathed faintly, then spoke again: "Mako poisoning?"

"Not quite poisoning." Hojo moved soundlessly up behind her, watching one of the other cages. "Exposed to Mako energy, yes. It's quite a delicate process; a ten percent error can mean the difference between poisoning and merely making the cells receptive."

"Receptive…? To what?"

Hojo smiled coolly and motioned her closer, further down the line of cages. Lucrecia followed, still feeling confused, dreading, and a bit stunned. She looked into the cage Hojo indicated. This, too, held four white mice, but these lay limp in the cedar shavings at the bottom of the cage, twitching faintly. As they watched, one struggled to its feet and stumbled drunkenly toward the food bowl. It collapsed when it arrived as if it had crossed an endless space.

Hojo's voice was soft, and deeply chilling. "_Jenova._"

Lucrecia watched the pitiful creatures as the realization slowly sunk in. Hojo had gone ahead of the plan and exposed living organisms to Project cells, even before they fully understood what made them work…or if they worked at all. In a sense he'd accomplished already what she was still fighting to discover.

All it took was to ignore all of the rules of conduct, decency, and due process.

"These…" Her voice failed her again, and she tried to moisten her lips. "These have been exposed to Project cells?"

"Yes. Full immersion in a thirty percent solution of cells and liquid Mako for three weeks. This batch just got out yesterday."

"Full immersion?"

Hojo motioned toward the wall to their left, parallel to the door. Lucrecia turned to look. The wall was lined with small glass tanks, hooked up to wires and sensors. Only a few were uncovered and empty; the others were shielded with steel covers. Under the shelves rested a row of fuel tanks, marked with danger warnings and the spiked symbol of Mako radiation.

Lucrecia looked back at the reeling mice. She felt slightly nauseated. "Do they all end up like this, disoriented?"

"Only at first." Hojo shifted down the line again, to another cage. Drawn by a curiosity she couldn't explain, Lucrecia looked into it. This cage of mice also had unsettling, glowing pink eyes, but they were not comatose; quite the opposite. One galloped on the exercise wheel at twice the speed of the mouse in the first cage, and two were tangled in the center of the cage in a furiously squeaking fury, biting and scratching at each other. Lucrecia looked for a fourth mouse, but saw none. Hojo continued, "Thirty percent immersion for three weeks, followed by a four-day acclimation period. Those two in the center…disposed of the fourth within hours of their recovery." A tiny smirk quirked his thin lips. "The survival instinct is especially active after this treatment."

The fighting mice finally tumbled apart and slunk on bleeding paws to opposite ends of the cage. One threw itself to the floor of the cage and fell asleep; the other watched the running mouse with an uncanny expression on its tiny face. It looked almost…intelligent…

_The Project. Jenova, neo-Cetra. Is this it? Has he found them…_ "Have you compared these to the data from Cetra cells?"

"Of course. But unfortunately, the influence of the Jenova cells is not quite strong enough. The technique may prove useful to the Corporation someday, after proper laundering, but it will never produce an Ancient." Hojo looked down the row of cages, toward the larger specimens. "Which brings me to the next phase of experimentation." He turned away from the cages, clasping his hands behind his back, and walked toward the other side of the room. A desk stood piled with papers and bits of equipment, and in front of it was a high-backed leather chair. Hojo sat in it and spun around to face Lucrecia. "Have a seat, my dear." He motioned toward a wooden chair not far from the desk, an oddly expensive-looking chair, probably taken from the Mansion's furniture. Lucrecia slowly sank into the chair, her back to the cages. Hojo pressed his fingertips together, watching her thoughtfully.

"It's taken me months to get to this point," he began. "But I suppose months are nothing, compared to the years it would take Gast to find what I've found." He paused for a moment. The faint sounds of the mice behind them seemed to vanish into a dead silence. "I believe I have found the secret to creating neo-Cetra."

_Creating?_ Lucrecia's heartbeat speeded up, even as the sick feeling in her stomach grew stronger. "What is it?"

A smile slowly crept across Hojo's face. "All in good time." He chuckled softly, a rough and unwelcoming sound. "I found that the factor in whether the specimens absorbed Jenova fully was not only exposure to Mako, but their stage of development. As you know, adult cells are relatively resistant to change; most of them divide slowly if at all, and their form does not change readily. They are locked into their functions, in other words, which are genetically programmed during development. You know this."

"Yes." The word was barely a whisper. She was starting to guess what the rest of the experiment entailed…

"On the other hand, embryonic cells, since they're still developing, are wonderfully receptive to change. It is this stage, I found, which is most responsive to the treatment. Not only this, but the treatment is easier, at least in terms of materials and storage. It requires no tanks and no large-scale storage of Mako. Just some needles and tubes, and a willing womb."

Lucrecia closed her eyes as a shiver passed through her. _Premature trials on living specimens are one thing, but…_ She thought of the line of cages behind her. _The Corporation would never stand for this…would it?_

_The Corporation…it ordered the Turks to kill those protesters in Corel, didn't it? That's the regard that Shinra has for human life. And that was nowhere near as crucial as the JENOVA Project…_

_It all comes down to profit._

"The gestation period of a mouse is quite short, so it took several trials to perfect the technique. There was little room for error." Hojo rose from his chair, momentarily towering over her, and disappeared behind her, toward the cages. Frozen to her spot, Lucrecia did not look. Hojo went on, "Finally, though, after all my trials, I found the answer. A forty percent solution of Jenova cells with fifty percent Mako and saline, injected directly into the womb. I'd started by using full-strength Mako as a vehicle, but the first few trials of females died of Mako poisoning before gestation was complete." Lucrecia heard a click and a faint metallic creak. "I feared for the future of the Project, but, luckily…" Footsteps… and Hojo stood before her again. Cradled in his arms was something she again took to be a large white cat. Her eyes fell on its tail—its pink, hairless tail—and a gasp died in her throat; she was utterly immobilized.

The creature lifted its head and looked at her with glowing pink Mako eyes.

Hojo's voice was quiet and filled with a terrifying pride. "…luckily, I found the answer."

She gaped, breathing heavily, unable to form any coherent words. She realized she was shaking, but was powerless to stop it. The monstrous mouse stretched, its pink feet with dainty white claws spreading against the air. It shook its head sleepily, blinked at her, and lowered its head again. Hojo watched her over its back, his dark eyes glowing with triumph.

"Imagine," he murmured. "Imagine what we could do in a human."

_This is so wrong…so brilliant, so simple, and so terribly, terribly wrong…_

"How?" Lucrecia asked, thinly, when she regained the power of speech. "You can't exactly lock a person up in a cage like these mice. That's unlawful imprisonment."

Hojo clicked his tongue disapprovingly. "Not imprisonment." He stroked the the mutant mouse's white fur as if it were a cat. "A willing volunteer."

Lucrecia frowned for a moment, uncomprehending. "A volunteer? Who would…"

"Willing," Hojo said quietly, "or under contract…perhaps in some sort of transaction."

"For money? Even then, who would agree to that?"

"Not money." His hands stilled on the mouse's head, just behind its ear. "Success."

"Success?…" She paused, remembering what he'd said.

The realization hit her with the force of a speeding train; she could not see for a moment, and her hands flew to her mouth. She was sure she would scream, or vomit, or faint…no, not here, not with this monster here…

"No," she croaked. "No, no, you can't mean…"

Hojo continued, "One treatment, nine months of injections, in return for a lifetime of success, fame, money, power in the Corporation, whatever you desire. The success of the JENOVA Project will be unequalled in our lifetimes as a scientific discovery. It will bring Shinra Incorporated wealth and power never before seen on this planet. With these neo-Cetra, and with the Jenova treatment applied to adults as you've also seen…Shinra could rule the world."

_Rule the world…_

_The greenhouse. Reflected sunlight, the nervousness in the pit of the stomach—healthy nervousness, then, just from talking to a handsome man, talking about the future… Shinra Research will rule the field of science._

_And you would like more than anything to be a part of that?_

_Yes._

_Whatever you desire…_

_At what cost?_

"You said the…" _Mothers._ "…females died from the treatment."

"Not if it's carefully kept at fifty percent Mako and saline. Those are still alive. Some bore two litters of live super-mice."

_Two litters?_ "Where are they now? I only saw…" _that hellish housecat you have right now…_

"This…" Hojo lifted the head of the mouse with one hand, stroking its throat. "This was the strongest of them, and the only surviving. Unfortunately, the survival instinct is strong in these as well." The mouse yawned, revealing a mouthful of sharp teeth. Lucrecia stared, realizing what this monster had done. _What these monsters have done…_ "As far as we know, the Ancients were not a warlike race. We may have stumbled across…an improvement in the natural system." He tickled the mouse's throat one more time, and it lowered its head again. "However, as I've stated, the breeding females treated at fifty percent Mako did survive." He chuckled. "And they didn't even get the privilege of a vice-chairmanship for their trouble."

_A vice-ch…_ "How can you guarantee that?" she demanded breathlessly.

"I have influence. They may mock me in the lower ranks, but the Corporation knows how profitable I am. Besides, as I've said, the prime movers of the JENOVA Project will be able to name their own prices and specifications for the rest of their very lucrative careers."

_Freedom…that's what it is…freedom, and power, and control, and independence, not to mention the money and influence…_

_…and power…_

_Success. Total success…_

_I'm never going to do that on my own. Not slaving away in that cave of a laboratory, not ghost-writing bureaucratic reports. I'll be fifty before I even get to vice-chair. What is that, twenty good years before I run out of energy? Would I even make it to chairman?_

_I want more than twenty years. I want it now._

_I could never make it on my own. I can't even carry out one phase of one project, with all the backing of Shinra behind me. Not going by the rules, I can't do it. If you intend to get anything done…_

_Nine months of injection._

_Sacrificing…sacrificing a life to the Project, offering it up like worshippers on the altar of a bloody god. Would that be what it amounted to? Or will it be a celebrity in Shinra, a living resource, more important than any of us can begin to imagine?_

_It? A child… my child…_

_Mine? Mine and whose? I'm not even married, what do they expect? Am I supposed to bear a child for this, only for this? Or will they wait until it happens on its own?_

_Hojo won't wait._

_And neither will you…_

_Everything I've ever wanted. Everything._

_Everything except my integrity._

_It won't last forever. It's just a price, nine months and your integrity, the price you pay for success. Life is hard, it's a series of tradeoffs and deals, your time in Shinra should have taught you that._

_It won't last forever. I'll do this one thing, this one awful thing, win what's mine, and get on with my life. I'll settle down in Midgar, or even here in Nibelheim…like Vincent said…_

_Vincent. Dear God, Vincent, please forgive me…_

The room was still, except for the distant scratching of the Mako-drenched mice. Lucrecia closed her eyes. Her hands were limp in her lap, her head lowered slightly. Her voice was quiet and resigned to her fate. "All right."

There was a long pause, and then a soft weight settled on her hands. She opened her eyes. Hojo had knelt at her feet, his head bowed.

And in her arms lay a white mouse the size of a house cat.

  



	17. 2.6 - Drift

2-6. Drift

Lucrecia was shocked out of sleep by an insistent knock on the door of her room. She swallowed, calming her pounding heart, and reached for her glasses on the bedside table. "Just a second," she called hoarsely, and coughed the roughness from her throat as she retrieved a robe from the wardrobe. Wrapping it around her, she opened the door and squinted into the bright light of the hall. "Who is-"

Vincent lunged almost too fast to see, catching her tight in his arms and kissing her mouth. His touch was urgent, almost desperate. Lucrecia pushed him back, confused and concerned. He was still wearing his Turk uniform. "Vincent…what's wrong?"

"Nothing. Not now, anyway. I missed you so much…"

Lucrecia relaxed. She'd expected a crisis. Relieved, she led him further into the room and closed the door before kissing him again. "I missed you, too. Why didn't you tell me you were leaving?"

"The orders didn't come in until the morning we left. It was strange; the Turks usually send their orders a day in advance. I'm sorry, I had no chance to tell you."

"It's all right."_ The important thing is that you left…but at any rate he's back, don't worry about that now._ "Did you just get back?"

"Yes. I think my suitcase is still in the lobby, in fact."

"Silly." She mussed his hair affectionately, and he tossed it back out of his eyes. The sound of his quiet laugh wrung her heart; it was so familiar, so reassuring, so…_beloved. That's the only word for it, really…_

"You know me. Besides, I have everything important right here." He pressed a light kiss on her forehead. "Will you take a walk with me, Lucrecia?"

"Now? It's late."

"It's still warm." Lucrecia looked toward the open window and the cloudy night outside. Vincent turned her face back to him, with a touch on her chin. His voice was quiet, somewhere just short of pleading. "Please."

She sighed, clasping the neck of the robe closed with one hand; she hadn't taken the time to belt it properly. Vincent drew her closer, resting her head on his shoulder, slowly running his hand over her hair. Lucrecia closed her eyes, half comforted, half depressed. _How long can this go on? If he'd been there…if I'd had a chance to talk to him…would I have turned down the deal?_

_Does it even matter now? It's done. But will he forgive me?_

_I forgave him for everything he's done…_

"Well?"

Lucrecia nodded. "Okay. I have to get dressed."

"Aww, do we have to do that part?" he asked sulkily, with a rare gleam of mischief in his eyes.

She cracked a smile and pulled his dark-red tie too tight, leaving him to claw it off his throat as she turned and walked toward the wardrobe. Vincent coughed, and after a moment she heard the bed rustle as he stretched out to wait. _He must be exhausted after all of that traveling… but then that's never stopped him from seeing me, has it?_

She gathered an armful of clothes and headed for the bathroom, mumbling pardons. She changed quickly, leaving her hair loose, and returned to the main room. Vincent was sprawled out over the bed; Lucrecia stopped short in the doorway, rocked by the flood of memories summoned by the sight. _I turned him down, that first night; he's never asked again…_

_Don't think about that now._

Vincent sat up, breaking the spell over her. "Ready?"

"Yes."

They slipped out of the inn, leaving Vincent's neglected suitcase with the desk clerk. The night was dark and overcast, with the threat of rain hanging low over the mountains, but the air was still warm. Lucrecia folded her arms against her stomach as she walked across the town square, heading nowhere in particular. Vincent walked beside her, watching her, though she barely noticed it. She was lost in her own musings, of Vincent's sudden disappearance and the contract with Hojo. Something nagged at a corner of her mind, something about those two things, and something else she couldn't place. They didn't add up; she was missing a piece of the equation, something small but vital… _Stop making up ideas! The suits in Midgar changed their minds about who to send, that's all…_

_Vincent is a sharpshooter, not a bodyguard. Why would Dr. Gast need a sharpshooter?_

As they passed from the town square and neared the Shinra Mansion, Vincent slipped his hand into the crook of her elbow; she looked up at him almost in surprise, then, with a halfhearted smile, relaxed her defensive posture and took his hand. For the moment, she could enjoy his company—_try_ to enjoy his company, without thinking of conspiracies and experiments and hidden rooms…

Lucrecia walked toward the front gate of the Mansion as if drawn by an unseen magnet, though her eyes were distant and brooding as she watched the dark windows. The house was silent, most likely deserted at this hour. _Except for the specimens…those never leave… Criminy, Luce,_ she scolded herself. _Don't be so morbid._ Unsure why she'd come or even where to go, she pushed open the creaking gate and slipped onto the grounds. Vincent followed, silent and withdrawn. His warm hand in hers was the only sign of life in him; he might as well have been as insubstantial as the shadows under the trees.

They passed under the newly budding trees, side by side, not speaking. The shadows were deeper now than they were last time she passed; there were no dusky patches of light at this hour. The night was still warm, but she had no desire to lie under the trees tonight.

_There isn't a department in this company without blood on its hands, Vincent… do you realize what my job can entail?_

_Do I even realize what my job can entail? I don't know anymore…_

_It'll be over soon. Just wait for the right time, do what you have to do, and hope he'll forgive you in the end._

They walked for a long time; Vincent never questioned where they were going, and Lucrecia had no explanation to offer. At the far edge of the grounds she was forced to stop. A dark slash interrupted the lawn, running from the distant mountains toward the town. A faint rush of sound murmured into the night's silence—water, a stream. Lucrecia let go of Vincent's hand and slowly dropped to the bank, looking down into the rushing water. The streambed was deep and narrow; the swift water had cut sharply into the soil and the underlying rock.

Vincent sat beside her; she could feel him watching her, but had nothing to say to him, nothing to do but huddle here and watch the stream roaring by. Vincent spoke, after a pause. "Something's wrong."

She could not look at him, could not face the concern in his eyes. "I'm all right. It's late. I'm tired. That's all." _Tired of fighting, more like it…tired of failing…I wish he didn't have to see this._

He put his arm around her shoulders, and she moved a little closer to him, leaning her head numbly against his. "We can go back," he said, his tone unfinished and uncertain.

"No."

Vincent nodded slightly. "All right…" His voice trailed off into silence.

He said no more for a time, looking up into the mountains, with one arm curled around her and the other hand in his pocket. Lucrecia slumped against him, praying for him to speak. _I was your strength when you needed me, Vincent…can you be my strength? Just once, just now? Please say something…_ She watched the stream, aching to reach out and dangle her fingers in the cool water. It seemed so inviting, so pure…

Lucrecia traced the current upstream, toward the mountains—toward Mount Nibel. She looked into the stream again, glowing faintly in the nonexistent moonlight.

_Mako._

She shivered despite the warm night, and though Vincent's arm closed tighter around her, she drew little comfort from it. _What percentage do you think that is? Half a percent, one percent Mako? What will my blood look like when it's done? I'll never need a nightlight again._ Lucrecia stifled a strangled giggle.

"What is it?" Vincent asked.

"Nothing, really." _Nothing you can know…but I won't be able to keep something like this away from him…not when I'm…_

"Are you sure?"

"Mm-hm."

_Whose will it be? Vincent's? Could I do that to Vincent's child?_

_But who else…_

Vincent sighed deeply, looking out over the mountains. "I wish I knew what was wrong," he said. His voice sounded lost. "You trust me, don't you?"

"Yes. It's not that." _I don't want to hear your reply to what I have to say, I don't want to see your disappointment. And…_ "I don't want to worry you without a good reason."

"Anything you'd have is a good reason," he remarked absently. "But if you don't want to tell me, I…guess I can wait."

"Thank you," she answered, and though a month ago she would have snuggled in closer to him and rested her head on his shoulder, tonight she did not. She sat, self-contained within the circle of his arm, cool and silent.

_I wish I could tell you. Or I wish I could keep it from you without this…silence. I can't let that go on for long, either. I can't let him slip away…_

_I can't lose you, Vincent. Not now._

Vincent did not speak, unaware of her unspoken prayers. They remained there for a long time, lost in individual thoughts of each other, at a loss for words, afraid of pushing the other away.

The tainted stream rushed by them, beautiful and deceptive, in the insincerely warm night.

  
  
  


"Hello-o."

She tried to speak up, to flatten the note of desperation from her voice. "Elmyra?"

"_Lucie?_ What possessed you to call?"

"Nothing, really. How have you been?"

"Oh, I'm fine. Midgar's getting twitchier and twitchier over that whole Wutai thing, but it's not like they're sending anybody over. I mean, we beat them once, how many times does it take? Anyway, how've you been, hon?"

"I'm…" _Where do I start?_ She looked down at her notebook, lying closed on the table. _Worried. Tired. Stuck… but not for long._ "…surviving."

"You don't sound too enthusiastic."

"I guess not. But it won't last forever."

"No trouble does," Elmyra said lightly. "So how are things with that handsome Turk of yours? Any signs of a Gainsborough double wedding?"

Lucrecia's throat constricted suddenly, though from shock or despair she couldn't determine. "Of course not!"

Elmyra giggled. "Don't sound so surprised! You've been together how long, six months?"

"Nine." The symbolism of the amount unsettled her, and she added quickly, "—almost ten. But that's not very much, really."

"Maybe. But he's already crazy about you, Luce. He really is. I could tell at the party, that man is _gone._"

Lucrecia couldn't help but smile at her sister's enthusiasm. _I just wish I could believe it myself…_ "I think I could marry him," she admitted. "Someday. When I'm done with the Project and settled in Shinra." _If he'll have me after that._

"Forget 'someday'. You never know what's going to happen in life, Luce. You can hope for the best, but you can't count on it. Take Reece—he keeps saying we'll get married someday, _some_day, because he's afraid of getting sent off to war and all. But I say that's all the more reason to enjoy now, because you never know what will happen. Not that anything will, God forbid. But you know."

"I suppose so. But I don't think our lives are that out of control. Not if we know what we're doing."

Elmyra's voice was serious, and strangely dark. "It's not your choice, Luce. It's not anyone's. And going out with a Turk, I think you'd've learned that life doesn't always turn out according to your plans."

Lucrecia swallowed, closed her eyes. Her free hand pressed down on the cover of her notebook. "Mine will," she stated. "It has to."

There was a long pause on the other end of the line. "Lucie? Are you sure you're all right?"

A sudden, sardonic smile quirked her mouth. "Not yet. But I will be."

"What are you talk-"

"Goodnight, Elly." She hung up before her sister could speak again.

  



	18. 2.7 - A Harbor in the Tempest

2-7. A Harbor in the Tempest

April. Spring had come to Nibelheim slowly, seeping up through the layers of frost, replacing the stinging winter air with a cool, bracing breeze laden with sea salt. The villagers emerged from their siege against the weather and roamed the town and countryside, in pairs, in bands, in young giggling packs. They had grown used to the infiltrators in their midst which had once sparked so much whispered debate. Many of them greeted Dr. Gast and Lucrecia in the street, though the Turks and Hojo still recieved little but polite nods. The presence of the Shinra scientists had become almost natural to most of them, accepted as a fixture of the town, like the Mansion or the mountains themselves. And on the slopes above them, half-hidden among the graying crags of Mount Nibel, the once-controversial reactor hummed quietly, all but ignored.

After work one April day, with the windows opened wide, Lucrecia packed away her winter clothes in her traveling trunk and pulled out the clothes she'd worn last summer, when she'd first joined the Project. She unfolded them slowly and slipped them into drawers and onto hangers, troubled by a strange sense of unfamiliarity. She came across a dress she'd worn on one of her first walks with Vincent, the beige blouse she'd worn when she came to Nibelheim, and even the dull, functional clothes she'd favored during her days at the Midgar Science Academy. It seemed strange to fold these same things into her wardrobe; they almost seemed to belong to another person. They belonged to a naïve, optimistic student, no more, her mind filled with the promise of an exciting new project. And now…who did they belong to? A washed-up scientist…or a woman at the dawn of a new world…

She sat down at the table when the last pieces were put away, flipping through the first few pages of her notebook without reading them. Her mind was filled with the eternal gray dusk of Midgar, her stifled, stratified, and hopeless home—so different from fertile Nibelheim, with its open fields and its innocent people. She found herself missing the city of her birth, faults and all; it had treated her well enough, providing education good enough to prepare her for a job like this, and a populace uncurious enough to let her tend to her own business without questions… at least, they let students tend to their lives without curiosity. But the Shinra officials…

She'd left Midgar anonymously and independently, a young student and helper to the Shinra elite. She expected to return much different: more important, more powerful, the mother of the most important person in Shinra. Even a loss of privacy, even the incessant questions of the press, were worth what she'd gain.

Almost anything was worth it, for that.

After a time she left the table and looked over her bookshelf for something to read. The shelves were filled with science texts for the most part, but lately they also held a steadily growing collection of books on the Ancients. She chose one that she hadn't finished yet—a memoir of a young Cetra woman—and curled up against the headboard of the bed to read.

For the next few hours, she was lost in the world of the Forgotten City and the lives of its long-dead inhabitants. The memoir had been translated from the diaries of a Cetra scholar who had lived two hundred years before the coming of Jenova. She had written about what she'd learned—the history of her people, the healing force of the Lifestream—as well as her own life. The scholar had married the man she loved, a young adventurer, against the will of her family, and the two of them had set out to find a new home beyond the Ancients' homeland.

The night slowly grew darker, but Lucrecia barely noticed it; as the room grew darker and the words began to blur on the page, the mental images they invoked grew stronger, until, finally, she slipped into a restless sleep.

She found herself among the glistening streets and spiralling towers of the city of the Ancients, a place she felt was her home—though, she sensed, not for long. A quiet unrest was gathering against her in this place, and she would soon have to leave.

Night was falling over the city, lengthening the wavering shadows of archway and building, bridge and pillar. She was walking slowly along the perimeter road toward the city's southern edge. The streets were empty, and a chilling air floated down from the mountains above. She pulled her cloak closer around her and walked on, as her faint footsteps echoed against the silent walls.

She drew close to the crossroads between the perimeter road and the city's main thoroughfare, which ran straight from the edge of the city to the doors of the capital building. Standing in the center of the road, she gazed toward the capital, awestruck and—though she could not explain why—deeply afraid. As she stood there motionless, a swirl of movement caught the corner of her eye. Before she could react, a pair of strong arms slid around her shoulders and pulled her back into an embrace. She sighed deeply, recognizing her husband's touch.

"Going to the temple?" he asked quietly; his voice did not disturb the stillness of the place, but his touch dispelled the chill. She turned to look at him, at his familiar red—

_Red? They're supposed to be green…_

_Supposed to be?_

—eyes.

"Yes," she answered. "To pray for the safety of our child."

Her husband smiled, laying his hands protectively over her greatly swollen belly. His head bent forward, and his long black hair—almost as long as hers—brushed against her face.

_Not supposed to be that dark, not black…in the book…_

_What book?_

_…it was brown._

"I'm glad," he said. "I hope the Planet will bless our child, in its new home."

"As do I." She pressed her cheek against his cheek—_pale, sunburned from exploring, who is this man? I think I love him…is this the one I love?—_and slipped out of the circle of his arms. "I have to go. It's almost night."

He nodded. The subtle light in his eyes—not Mako, but Cetra, the glow of the Chosen—warmed her, chased away a little of the fear that lurked in her heart. She looked him over, this man she loved, standing in the city of her birth with a cloak like hers around him, dark red—

_Green, he wore green…_

—to keep away the chill. She smiled, lifted her hand in farewell, and he did the same.

_It's not forever; I'll see him again._

She turned away and walked alone toward the Capital.

The Capital, too, was empty, its hallowed halls silent. There were no scholars here, studying late; no other worshippers coming for solace or strength. She walked with her hands folded in front of her, though the impulse was strong to spread them over her stomach, as if to shield her child from some unseen threat. With quickening steps she approached the inner sanctum of the Capital, the most revered place in the Cetra homeland.

The temple stood silent and waiting in its eternal green twilight; only the glow of the sacred Lifestream well illuminated its marble walls and stairs. She held her breath and began to descend the gracefully spiralling staircase that led to the altar. As she drew closer to the altar, she felt a stirring within her body, as if the child sensed the holiness of the place.

She knelt, a little clumsily, and began to whisper her prayer with increasing urgency. "By the Power that creates and protects us all, bird and plant and Cetra, please shield my child from-"

_"NOOOOOO!"_

A harsh shout fractured her train of thought, and her head jerked upward, her eyes wide. Her breath caught in her throat. Above her, where the shifting green light of the Lifestream had reflected on the walls, was only darkness. A veil of shadow was creeping down the walls of the temple, killing the reflected light. She wheeled around and lost her balance, crumpling on the stairs of the altar. She could not find the source of the voice. There was no one there but herself—and the formless shadow that slid down the walls.

_And the child…_

She heard the voice again, though she did not know who or what was speaking. _"How dare you come here, to profane the sacred well!"_

Her voice was weak, trembling, in the pressing silence of the temple. "I came here to pray for my child."

_"Your child is poisoned, it is not Cetra. You have no place here."_

"Not Cetra…" she breathed, as panic gathered in the pit of her stomach. The shadows flowed down the walls, extinguishing the holy light, and before her horrified eyes the emerald well of Lifestream ran as red as blood…

She looked up toward the center of the altar, praying without words for a glimmer of light, but the darkness had swallowed the temple. She heard a low, quiet laugh, and deep within her, deeper than any light could reach, she felt the scratching of tiny claws…

  


The dream wrenched apart as a shriek escaped her throat. There was a loud crack, and a moment later, she felt someone envelop her in a tight embrace.

_But there's no one, not here, not now…_

_My husband…no, who…? Vincent…_

_Vincent!_

Lucrecia's eyes flew open. Her heart was pounding, and she gasped to catch her breath. She saw a bedside lamp, the bedside lamp, from her room at the inn in Nibelheim… the room's ceiling with its dark wooden beams… and recognized the man holding her, the man she loved, with soft brown eyes and black hair—which fell to his sharp cheekbones, but not to his shoulders…

"Vincent," she said, half sigh, half sob. Vincent sat back on the edge of the bed, taking her hand in both of his own. He had taken off his jacket and holster, which lay in a heap on the floor, but he still wore the rest of the Turk uniform.

"I'm sorry. I knocked, but you didn't answer… and then I heard you scream…you must have been dreaming."

Lucrecia nodded. "I was." She looked up; the door stood open, and the keyhole was blasted and warped. Vincent stood and walked to it, then calmly closed the door.

"I'll pay for the damage," he said quietly.

"You…" she began, but did not finish. She knew what he'd done: he'd shot the lock off the door. "Just because you heard me?"

"Because I heard you in pain." There was a sharp knock on the door; Vincent opened it again to reveal the alarmed face of the desk clerk.

"What's going on here?"

"Nothing," Vincent replied. "It's done. Send the repair bill to Valentine, room four. Tomorrow."

"But—"

"Good evening." Vincent closed the door again, crossed to the table, and dragged one of the chairs against the door to block it. He came back to Lucrecia, sat on the bed beside her and took her into his arms again. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine." She took a deep breath. "Just a nightmare."

"Don't say 'just'; they're powerful things." He glanced down at the book, lying half-open on the bed beside her. Following his eyes, Lucrecia picked it up and tossed it on the stand behind her. "Ancients?"

"I was reading it…I think I fell asleep. I dreamed…I was one of them."

"An Ancient? What happened?"

Lucrecia shivered, half-remembering a dark shadow, blotting out a cool green light. "I don't want to think about it."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, just…" She drew a breath that shook with remembered fear. "Stay here, for a while. Please."

Vincent closed his eyes, holding her close; under his shirt front she could feel his heart racing. "I'll stay as long as you'll let me."

"And don't…make me think about…the dream. Not tonight, at least. I want to forget about it for a while."

_I want to forget about everything…for a while._

"All right." He was quiet for a moment, absorbed in his own mind. When he spoke, his voice was quiet and calm, as it had been under the Mansion's trees, as it had been after the party. "I can understand wanting to forget. I wish there was nothing in your life that you'd want to forget. I wish nothing like that could reach you. I wish I could keep it away, or fight it, if I can. But if I can't change it, then…I would like to help you forget it, for a while. You've done the same for me, so many times. It's the least I can do."

She felt tears pressing against her throat, from relief, gratitude, and a multitude of things she could barely define. "Thank you," Lucrecia whispered. "I feel so lucky to have you."

"No…" Unable to finish, he kissed her, almost abruptly, on the lips; she felt his uneven breathing, saw his eyes clenched shut, and longed for him to speak again. After a moment he moved back, and started again. "No…not lucky, not you. I'm lucky I have you. I still can't believe you might love me, you're the most unbelievable person I've ever known."

"I do love you, Vincent," she said softly, and any further words were stopped by another fervent kiss.

"You have no idea what that means to me," he said when he moved away. He watched her for a moment, and in his face, normally so closed, she saw a heart-stopping mixture of hunger, love, and pain. "I love you more than anything else I know. I don't know what I'd do without you."

"I hope you never have to find out," she replied.

He held her close again, for a long time, without a word. Then she heard him whispering her name, not to get her attention, but simply to hear the sound of it. And lastly, more quietly than anything else, at the very edge of her hearing, she thought she heard him whisper something else.

_"Lucrecia Valentine."_

Before she could react, or even confirm what she thought she'd heard, he moved again, kissing her face and her throat—and in his arms and his body she felt a tension, a building energy, that cried out to be released.

_Now,_ she thought. _A time like this…you never know when it will come again._

Resisting the impulse to encourage him, Lucrecia gently guided him back, against the pillows beside her. Vincent watched, stunned, as she slowly loosened the black tie at his throat—as much a badge of the Turks as the infamous dark blue itself—and dropped it on the floor. He remained motionless as she reached across him and turned off the light.

  


_Note: I stole the lovely title from an even lovelier song, "All I Want Is You" by U2._


	19. 2.8 - Someday

2-8. Someday

Lucrecia stirred from sleep as slats of warm sunlight moved across her face. She squinted against them toward the windowshade for a moment, shading her eyes with her hand, then turned over and reached for her glasses on the endtable. Her fumbling hand hit not cool wood, but something warm and soft. She startled, suddenly awake, and her eyes focused on the blanketed mound between her and the table. Slowly she relaxed, sinking back into the pillows. She watched the quietly breathing form beside her until the rising flood of memories almost brought tears to her eyes, then closed her eyes against the strengthening sunlight.

With a rustle of covers and a quiet sigh, Vincent turned toward her and slipped his arm around her waist. Lucrecia lay still, listening to his soft sleeping breath against her neck. She tried to shut out all other thought and emotion for a while—desire and memory and the ever-present flicker of fear—and simply breathed in the warmth and comfort of the moment. This is what I have to look forward to, she thought, and raised her hand to cover his. _Someday…when I've finished what I have to do… this, a home in the open air, a man who loves me, peace and quiet… someday…_

But I have so much time to worry about that.

Vincent would wait for her; she knew that now. He'd confessed so much in the night, as if the words had been stored up, stockpiled and waiting for a chance to be freed. He'd talked himself to sleep last night, half-coherent and almost inaudible. But she knew now. He trusted her absolutely, which touched off a twinge of regret; she didn't want to disappoint him by failing. But he trusted her as he hadn't trusted anyone in years, and she hoped that his trust would help him accept her appointed path.

And he loved her, of course, as he never had before. She was his first love, he'd told her, though not his first lover. He'd been ashamed when he said it, fearing her disappointment, though she assured him that she was not disappointed. She took his adoration as the compliment it was, although some part of her feared she could not live up to it, or match it with her own. Lucrecia loved Vincent, though she wasn't sure whether it were with the same depth that he confessed to her. Even as she'd whispered back affirmations to him, she found a part of herself drawing away. Vincent's fervor unnerved her, his need to connect with another human soul; a closeness that complete, that intense, was something she wasn't quite prepared to handle. She noted her fear as rationally as she could, as something to improve upon. Someday she'd be ready, after all of the rest was done, after she'd secured her future. When that day came, she could repay him all the commitment he deserved.

And until then, Vincent would wait. If nothing else, she could be sure of that.

The morning slowly slid by, and as the sunlight grew stronger Vincent woke. He yawned, then kissed Lucrecia's cheek. "Sleep well?" he asked. She nodded. "No nightmares this time?"

"None. You?"

"How could I?" He settled his chin against her shoulder again, comfortably. "I don't think I've slept so well in years."

Lucrecia smiled and hugged him tighter for a moment. _Someday…_ "We'll have to get up eventually, you know."

"Do we _have_ to?" Vincent groaned, half-jokingly.

"I'm afraid so. I don't think this is covered under Shinra's sick-leave policy."

"Tyrants. It should be." He yawned again and sat up, stretching his long limbs. Lucrecia watched him, partly attracted and partly stunned; it had been dark in the room, the night before… "What time is it?"

"I can't see the clock; it's on the endtable."

Vincent looked at it. "Eight. Good. When do you have to be there?"

"There's no set time, as long as I get everything done…don't worry about it."

He nodded. "Oh, for the life of a salaried employee. I'm due in at nine. Just enough time." Vincent bent to kiss her lips one more time, then reluctantly got up and dressed in the clothes he'd worn the day before. "I'm going to get my things. I'll be right back."

"All right."

After he left, Lucrecia tried to go on as if it were a normal workday. She showered, dressed, and clipped her ID tag onto the pocket of her lab coat. The only changes in the routine, it seemed, were the broken door and the young Turk who knocked on it, half an hour later.

"Ready?" Vincent asked, when she opened the door. "We're both going to the Mansion, so I thought we could walk together."

"Sure." She smiled at him, warmed by the simple gesture. This could make a nice routine, over the years. They even worked in the same building back in Midgar, so when they eventually returned… _But that's a while off,_ she thought. _Don't worry about it now._

They left the inn together, hand in hand, lifting their faces to the warm April sun. Spring was kind to Nibelheim, it seemed, after the endless alpine winter. For the first time in months, Lucrecia felt some promise in this town. All she had to do was carry out this one project, the greatest of her life, her one sure shot at triumph. Then, she could have it all: power, influence, money, success… and Vincent, with his dreams of domestic tranquility. She would have it all, in time. But for now, there was simply this, the birds chirping on the inn's roof, the sun finally warm on the thawed ground, the handsome Turk with his hand held solidly in hers. Life was calm, and predictable, and it had promise. For the first time in months, she felt true anticipation for the future.

Someday, her dreams would come together. All in good time.

As they neared the well in the town square, Vincent started to walk in the wrong direction. Lucrecia looked at him quizzically. "Where are you going?"

"Come with me for a minute. There's something I'd like to show you."

"All right…" She followed him as he walked down the lane that led out of town, wondering what he could want to show her. A view of the greening mountains, maybe…?

Vincent stopped just outside the gates of the town, where they would not be easily seen. He faced her questioning gaze for a moment, a trace of nervousness showing through his carefully controlled expression. "I've thought about this for a long time," he said. "I spent most of my week in Midgar thinking about it, too, and…well, now I'm sure."

He reached into his pocket, and Lucrecia felt her world freeze. Everything seemed silent; she could no longer hear the birds on the roof of the inn or the voices of the children in the square. Vincent brought his hand up, and she saw a sickening flash of gold the moment before his quiet voice, the only sound in the world, reached her ears with perfect clarity. "Lucrecia, will you marry me?"

She felt him touch her hands, sliding the ring onto her finger; she felt the rough surface of the stone brush her hand. But she did not see it. Her eyes were clenched shut over the panic, the terror that rose like wildfire through her entire being.

_It was so perfect, so perfect, why now, why did you have to ask now, it's too soon, too soon, not now…_

Hot tears forced her eyes open, and she stared, stunned, at the wavering images of the ring on her hand, the man in front of her, his hopeful face. "Well?" he asked gently.

_Not yet! Not now, I had it all planned…not until after the project, then…not now…_

Lucrecia could not speak; her throat was too tight with unshed tears, too busy straining against a scream. She shook her head, and as the tears burst through with their full force, she felt herself turn and run, away from Vincent, away from Nibelheim, away from the shattered order of her daydreams.

And in her mind echoed one thing, over and over, drowning out all else: _Not now, not now, not now…_

  
  
  


Lucrecia ran blindly over the meadows outside Nibelheim, stumbling over tufts of new grass. At last she fell at the edge of the fields, where the cliffs rose from the sea. She crumpled on the cliff's edge and stared numbly down into the void.

_What have I done?_

She was still shuddering with tears, uncontrollably, as if her body were not her own. The fields were mute and empty behind her, and the wind did not move. The ocean roiled beneath her, deep and mysterious, filled with pale, cold beings that had never seen light. Her mind warred with itself, torn between reason and grief, pulling her one way and the other as unstoppably as the tides below.

_Why did he… I had it all planned._

But it doesn't always follow the plan, does it?

I had it planned, it was perfect…

No, it wasn't perfect; you are human, after all.

But it's gone, and I can't fix it… It's too late now…too late…

The promise of the day had died, sucked down further into the dark than she could ever reach. There was no hope in the day's brightness now, no comfort in its warmth. She'd turned him down—Vincent, who loved her with all his heart. She'd turned him down because he couldn't see the importance of her project, didn't understand the beautiful, dependable order of her plan…

_Admit it: and because he loves you too much, because he wants too much, too soon…and because nothing can stand between you and your dream._

I didn't mean to hurt him, I never meant to hurt him…but it's too late now. What can I do now?

I can do what I have to do…there is nothing else.

Lucrecia struggled to her feet and stood alone on the empty promontory, suspended between earth, sea, and sky. What was left now? Duty. Responsibility. The promise of success, which Hojo held out like a clear jewel, just out of her reach. All the power Shinra could offer…

The JENOVA Project.

And Vincent… would he forgive her, for what she had to do? He might understand duty; he'd killed in the name of the Corporation.

_But I'm not like that! I won't kill! I will create…_

She remembered the child then, the child of the Project. She would not think of its father. She thought of it as a creation of hers alone, a thing of dreams and sheer will, born pure through the will of Science.

_…and infusions of alien cells, and about five liters of liquid Mako—Don't think about that._

The tears started to flow again, uncontrollably, from fear as much as from grief. _Vincent… you may not forgive me. But I will try to deserve your devotion. I will prove my power._

I will prove it the only way I know how.

If you'll have me…

Lucrecia choked on the rising sobs and turned toward the waiting town, now only a blur through the curtain of tears. She started to walk toward it, slowly, wearily, with a numb determination. The sun was brighter now, stinging her streaming eyes, and she squinted against the light as she neared the town. The memory of the morning's clear sunlight came back to her—the sunlight, and the calm, warm peace she'd felt in Vincent's arms…

_Vincent… Oh, God, Vincent, what have I done to you…_

The sobs broke out stronger than ever, almost hysterically. Then she saw, wavering, through the tears, a pale shadow detaching itself from the shelter of the town's gate. _Took off his Turk's jacket again,_ she thought, _ just like last night…_

She crashed into him, almost too exhausted to stand. He hesitated, then put his arms around her and held her in a cool embrace. Lucrecia wept against his chest as an uneasy relief spread through her. Maybe Vincent could forgive her, after all…

Dimly she heard herself whispering, "You forgive me, I didn't think you would… I do love you, it's just that… it's too soon…"

There was the touch of a hand under her chin, calm with a slight tremor of excitement.

_"Vincent…"_

There was a faint sound, a scoff, almost too quiet to be heard. His lips touched hers, carefully at first, then harder, driven, as if something had snapped in him, something dark and unhealthy, kept in chains for far too long.

From somewhere out of her line of vision, there was a sound of footsteps, fleeing the town, into the fields beyond.

_Something's wrong. Something's very wrong._

Lucrecia's mind sharpened with alarm and a sudden, rising dread. She withdrew one hand to push the tears out of her eyes, and looked up where Vincent's face should have been.

Her eyes flicked downward to meet the faintly smirking eyes of her overseer, Hojo.

Hot anger flared through her mind, burning away the relief. Lucrecia wrenched her body out of his arms and shoved him away. Hojo lurched backwards to the ground, in the scuffed brick road leading out of Nibelheim. He did not get up. He sat in the dust, watching her, waiting. There was no shock in his eyes, nothing to hide the cold spark of triumph.

Lucrecia stood, glaring back at him, her fists clenched and her stomach knotted with disgust. And the thought came to her again, more dire now than it had ever been:

_What have I done?_

The silence drew tight between them; she could not hear the birds now, or the midday bustle of the town. There was only the struggle within her, and the wordless waiting of the father of the Project.

_What have I done? I've done what I deserved…_

I let him go, the good man…I let him go. I made a pact with this devil and I let my angel go…

There's nothing I can do now.

She spoke one word, so quietly that it should not have been heard, but both of them knew what it was. One had known somewhere that it was inevitable, in spite of any intervention; the other had waited to hear it, in a dark corner close to madness, for longer than reason wanted to know.

"Now."

  



	20. 2.9 - The Ones Most Loved

2-9. The Ones Most Loved

The underground rooms of the Shinra Mansion never seemed to change. The hallway's stone floor echoed with their footsteps, and when they stopped at the door to Hojo's laboratory, silence fell thickly around them.

In the hidden room the mice continued their endless, futile struggle, and at the end of the row, Hojo's prize specimen watched with pink crystal eyes. Hojo snapped the lights on, flooding the room with its cold, clinical glare, then, after a moment of contemplation, flicked off one of the switches. The light retreated to a grayish half-glow that threw spidery shadows of the cage bars on the walls. He extended a thin hand toward a large padded chair which, she was certain, had not been in the room during her last visit. Lucrecia numbly sat down. Her hands clutched the arms of the chair, and the black vinyl padding squeaked faintly with the friction. The air was cool and sterile, but she found it hard to breathe.

_I just want this to be over._

Her dry throat finally found the power to speak. "You have ether? Chloroform?"

Surprised, Hojo turned from the papers on the desk. "Of course."

Lucrecia nodded. "Use it."

Hojo watched her for a long moment, an unreadable mixture of emotions on his thoughtful face—analysis, agreement, insult, anger…

_Attraction?_

"It's not that painful a procedure, my dear."

She closed her eyes. "I don't want to be there."

The scientist did not answer for a long time. He bent behind her chair and loosened a clamp; the chair reclined backward, like a dentist's chair. With six or seven pushes on a pedal, it ratcheted upward a bit. Lucrecia concentrated on breathing steadily. The rest of her emotions had fled, retreated down a corridor and locked it behind them. All that remained was emptiness, resignation, and the twinge of fear that Hojo never failed to inspire. Everything else was stifled. Almost everything else.

Hojo stepped away from the chair. "Fine then. If you're unable to cope with the stress of the experiment… Really, Lucrecia, I'd expected better of you."

Lucrecia opened her eyes, a small ember of anger burning in her numbed heart. "And I expected better of you…Hojo." The names Shelan had recited echoed in a distant corner of her mind. _How dare he call me by my name, as if he knew me…but… how dare I protest? I came here, after all…_

_But I'll be damned if I ever call him "sir" again._

Hojo looked away, a small, regretful smirk crossing his face. "You don't understand," he said. "I thought you might…well, no matter." He looked down at the papers again, shuffling them almost nervously.

"I should ask you," he said, after a pause. His voice was controlled, almost inflectionless. "Are you pregnant already, by the Turk?"

Lucrecia swallowed. "I don't think so."

"Hm," Hojo remarked. His dark eyes strayed to Lucrecia's left hand on the arm of the chair. After a moment he lifted her hand in his own chilly fingers, studying Vincent's ring with clinical detachment. Lucrecia pulled her hand away, as if in a delayed reaction. She stared fixedly at the ceiling.

Hojo's voice was quiet and musing; in a normal room she would have barely heard it. "You're beautiful, you know…when you let yourself be." Lucrecia swallowed hard, her muscles tensing slowly. "In the square today…I'd never seen you so…vulnerable." His nimble fingers brushed the small diamond on her left hand.

Lucrecia's stomach seized in a tense knot. "If you touch me I'll kill you."

His hand dropped away as he abruptly turned back to the desk. A deep chill settled over his voice. "You'll be unconscious, my dear. You won't even know it."

She shoved away the thought of it, longing to sink back into numb indifference. "I'll know."

"Will you," he remarked softly. He turned back toward her, a smirk skewing his thin mouth. "So you'll kill me? And end up in prison for the rest of your life? That's hardly the way to achieve your ambition…"

Lucrecia closed her eyes, feeling the antiseptic chill seeping into her skin. She knew what would stop him…possibly the only thing that would stop him. It was difficult to form the words, to force them past her lips. "I-I'll kill the child."

Hojo paused. The smirk had vanished. In is eyes and over his thin features she detected a trace of suspicion: he knew she couldn't kill it any more than he could. But he wouldn't risk testing her. Their futures, their dreams depended on this. "Very well then." He sighed tonelessly. "A controlled procedure is more dependable, after all. An experiment is worthless if it can't be repeated…."

"Just…get on with it."

Hojo clicked his tongue disapprovingly. "Patience." He made a few notations on the papers, checked his watch, and wrote something else. Finally he stood up, tucking the pen back into the pocket of his lab coat. He cleared his throat. "Now, you're sure you want it to be done artificially."

"Yes. Right now if you slept with me I think I'd kill myself."

Hojo nodded, and looked down at his folded hands. He was grievously insulted; Lucrecia sensed that he would never forget the slight. But he would not risk his experiment for it.

"Very well," he said again, and silently crossed the room. He returned with a dark brown bottle, meditatively drew a white handkerchief from his pocket, and soaked it in the contents of the bottle. With one hand he felt her pulse, pressing her wrist with fingers that shook almost too slightly to detect, and with the other he enclosed her nose and mouth in the cloth. Lucrecia closed her eyes before the fumes hit her, disgusted that the last thing she saw would be Hojo's face.

"To destiny," Hojo said with a twinge of sarcasm, just before Lucrecia slipped into oblivion.

  
  
  


Unconsciousness let go of Lucrecia by degrees, reluctantly releasing her from a sleep without dreams. A bright, yellowish light wedged under her eyelids, and she turned away with an involuntary groan. She dimly realized that the fabric under her cheek was linen, not vinyl, and this struck her as odd. But she didn't know why this was odd, or where the light came from, or what had happened…the last thing she remembered was…

_Hojo._

She shivered, huddling farther into the pillows. Her mind was clearing, the haze lifting at last. _Pillows…I must be…home._

_Safe at home,_ she added, but did not believe it.

Blocking the light with her hand, she opened her eyes a sliver. The bland familiarity of her room in the Nibelheim inn swam into a nearsighted soft-focus. The sunlight, looking almost alien in its clear, natural vibrance, streamed through the open windows. Midday… it had been almost noon when she'd gone to the lab. Had any time passed at all? What if…

_It happened,_ she corrected herself, with flat certainty. _Don't fool yourself, there's no way you can get out of it now._

Lucrecia closed her eyes again, letting her hand fall onto the quilt. Her mind was still a little clouded, but blurs of memory swam through the gray blank that lay between this room and the underground laboratory. She remembered the chill in the air, the faint scratchings of the mice, the sharp, numbing fumes of the anaesthetic…

And Hojo's last words. _To destiny._

She lay still for a moment, thinking, waiting for some sign from her body, some animalistic memory soaked through the skin. There was none. In the existence that lay under consciousness, she had sensed no fear, no violation or restraint. The bastard had kept his word after all.

_And yet…_

A voice spoke from somewhere on her left, between the bed and the door. It was quiet, with a seamless, practiced calm. "Is it true?"

Lucrecia turned toward the sound. Vincent sat in a chair by her bedside, his hands folded in his lap. His suit was immaculate and his face expressionless, but in his eyes darted a pain beyond expression.

His voice wavered slightly, took on a note of urgency. "What Hojo told me. Is it true?"

She swallowed. "What did he tell you?"

Vincent's hands came apart, clenched in fists on his knees. "That you…that he…" His head dropped into his hands, his hair falling into his face. Her name was part moan, a cry of desperation. "Lucrecia… it's not true, is it?" Vincent looked up at her, the mask cracked; his dark eyes begged for a truth that did not exist.

She could not answer.

Vincent stood, restlessly, paced without direction in the confines of the room. His speech was as disjointed as his movements. "I was on duty on the Reactor path… I got a call… Hojo said to come to the Mansion basement. I went. And you… you were lying on the steps, at the bottom of the staircase, and he… Hojo said he couldn't carry you any farther… I asked what happened, if you'd fainted, and he said you'd been sedated… I asked why and he told me… he told me… is it true? You let him do that, you let him… let him impregnate you for the Project, Lucrecia, tell me it's not true. Please." He stopped pacing and stood helplessly by her bedside. "It's not true, is it? Hojo lies all the time, everyone knows he does…"

Her voice finally returned, reluctant to leave her throat. "Not this time."

Vincent slowly sank back into the chair. Lucrecia could not look into his stricken eyes. "It's true," he said softly. "You're…"

"I think so."

"By him, by that…monster."

"I think so."

He raked his hands back through his hair, and sighed heavily. His voice, apart from a quaver of hurt, was genuinely calm. "Why?"

"I had to."

"But…_why?_ Why did you have to…"

She sat up, leaning back on the headboard. She looked at a corner of the ceiling as she spoke. "For me, for us, for Shinra, everything. You wouldn't understand…trust me on this." 

"I did trust you," he said quietly.

A pang of hurt and regret twisted her heart, but she went on, clinging to logic. "Vincent… please. This isn't forever, I'll be fine in nine months. In fact, I'll be better than I ever was. Just trust me."

The room was quiet for a long moment. "All right." Vincent crossed his arms over his chest, absently tucking his right hand under his left arm. He stared into the space around her body, as if he, too, could not bear to make eye contact. "Is this what you want to do?"

Lucrecia nodded before the word could form. "Yes."

"Are you sure?"

_How can we be sure, in this world? Where nothing, not even science, works as it should? What's left but empty plans and the hope that you can somehow make it less depressing than it is?_

Vincent's voice took on an edge of urgency. "Lucrecia, are you sure?"

She could not answer.

"All right." His eyes rested on her hand where it lay on the quilt. For a long minute he said nothing. When he spoke, the question was soft and very serious. "And…what I asked you yesterday morning?"

Lucrecia looked down at the ring, remembering—not the moment when Vincent asked her, but remembering Hojo as he studied it, remembering the cool, precise touch of his hands on it… She slipped the ring from her finger, fighting back a distant prickle of tears. "I'm sorry, Vincent…I can't take this now." She leaned over to Vincent, pulled his numb left hand forward, and slipped the ring onto his thin finger. It just barely fit him. She turned the diamond, the stone Hojo had touched, away from the outside, hidden in his hand. "I don't deserve it." 

Vincent was quiet for a long time. His hands came together, fingering the fine gold of the ring, but he did not remove it. In his eyes were the first traces of tears, over a kind of blank, uncomprehending acceptance.

_Vincent…forgive me. Please…say you forgive me…_

He began slowly, "I don't understand this, this thing you've decided to do. I don't think I ever will. But if you've decided…I can't stop you. I just don't want it to hurt you. And I…want you to be happy."

Her voice was set, unmovable as stone. "I will be."

Vincent nodded. His tears did not fall—she knew they would not, as long as she watched—and his voice was calm. "I wish you hadn't done this…but if you're sure, I'll trust you."

_Do you…_ the thought came again, and before she realized it, she'd said it out loud: "…forgive me?"

"What?"

She licked her lips and repeated it. "Do you forgive me?"

Vincent looked away for a moment, thinking. The fingers of his right hand still toyed absently with the ring. At last he nodded. "I forgive you. I love you; I can't help but forgive you, even though you've hurt me more than anyone ever has. But… _him…_ I'll never forgive him."

_Somehow…neither will I._

Vincent fell silent again, and under the thin, fuzzy aftereffects of the drugs, Lucrecia's mind lay still. The sunlight streamed over their frozen bodies in the warm April afternoon, but both of them had ceased to care.

  



	21. Interlude 2 - Reunion

Interlude 2: Reunion

_"The crisis was an accident._

"At first glance it seemed like nothing more than a smear of organic matter on a dead lump of rock, barely living itself. Seven million viruses, nothing much by the standards of epidemiology. And a thousand-some years later, under Shinra microscopes, it looked like nothing special. A strand of DNA, a protein cover to keep it safe from the elements, and a hypodermic tail to inject it into the host cell.

"The host cell…

"Anyway, Shinra had it all covered. We knew the structure of the protein coat, we had the genome already published by the time the Project came around. In the preliminary briefing I remembered looking over the geometric scaffolds of molecular diagrams, picking out familiar pieces and structures like any other molecule: hydride, amino, benzoic, triacyl. The biologists had their names, too: Type IV infectious agent, possible species-specific mutagen. We had lists of fancy terms, like the incantations to keep the demons of ambiguity away.

"We thought we knew what Jenova was.

"As it turns out, we had no clue. No clue at all.

"I had plenty of time to figure it all out, although I didn't have much to go on-flashes of light and sound and feeling, words in foreign languages that I somehow understood, without knowing how. I never took that much time to turn things over, come at them from all possible angles. I was a man of action and quick, decisive thoughts. But Jenova changed all of that."

  


"This is what I know.

"The meteorite, with its coating of Jenova viruses, crashed near a settlement of Ancients. They lived all over the planet back then, but their capital was in the north, not too far from the crash site. The meteorite hit a spot the Ancients called the Knowlespole-which meant magnetic and energetic north. Magnetic they only cared about to align their maps; energetic was much more important to them. They lived and died according to the flow of Lifestream. And this Knowlespole, they believed, was the spot where a dying person's life force would sink into the ground to join the Lifestream. They called it the Promised Land too, the place where the departed could become one with the Planet.

"That's another thing Shinra got wrong…

"The meteorite crashed into the Knowlespole, which was itself a huge trauma to the Ancients. And then the sickness came…They didn't call it 'Jenova', which was a Shinra-spun translation, and a damn hopeful one at that. Only Shinra would be blind enough to call this thing 'New God'. The Ancients' name for the virus was Sephirisena, 'crisis from the sky'.

"The disease brought on by Jenova caused a strange kind of sickness. The first victims didn't suffer much; in fact, they barely knew they'd caught a bug during their pilgrimage to the Knowlespole. But as the virus spread through the rest of the population, the mild disorientation and dizziness turned to confusion, then reports of 'voices'. All of the Ancients with the Sephirisena disease heard voices, and as more and more of them became infected, the voices became stronger and stronger. Within a year, three-quarters of the Ancients' capital had gotten sick, and their 'voices' had become full hallucinations. Some believed they heard the voices of the dead, others believed that they had gained the power to read minds. All could hear the Planet, amplified beyond the Ancients' natural power; and in the first years after the meteorite struck, its cries of pain were deafening.

"All of this they saw, right in front of their eyes—or in their ears, really—but the virus, meanwhile, did its true work out of their sight. Shinra got that part right; the virus could change things. Normal viruses just take over a cell, tell it what to do for a while, long enough to churn out a few million more viruses. But not this one. It changed their bodies, cell by cell, from Ancient into something else, something part human and part alien. It was invisible so far, and undetectable. The Ancients never knew what really happened to them. They were preoccupied with the mind, with the voices that drove them to insanity. They never knew what the virus really did.

"Most of the Ancients died from the madness. Some threw themselves off the high cliffs outside the city. Many found what they thought to be a nobler sacrifice, in the Lifestream well in the center of their capital.

"And a few…damn them…went back to the Knowlespole."

  


"The rest Shinra knew, although I wouldn't put it past that little bastard to rewrite all the books. The civilization had died by then, lost to the virus or scattered through the world, some living like recluses in the corners of the world to hide from the virus, some slipping into mundane society despite their glowing eyes. For all intents and purposes, the Ancients were dead, and with them went the virus, Sephirisena, Jenova.

"And then Shinra came along.

"They found them, of course; practically the only preserved bodies of infected Ancients left on the planet. They dug one up and tested it and decided it wasn't human, wasn't Ancient, and called it alien. Superhuman. They gave it a name, Jenova, 'New God.' They looked up the few books they cared to keep on the Ancients' history and threw together a half-baked story or two. Some thought that this thing was Sephirisena, the crisis from the sky; they thought that a creature had somehow survived the burning entry into the atmosphere and the impact of landing on the planet. It had a romantic ring to it, really. But it was wrong.

"Some thought that it was a dead Cetra…sort of. These were the high-end researchers, Hojo and Gast. They saw that the cells had been changed by something, but they weren't sure how, or what. They found no traces of viruses or bacteria in the body itself; it seemed to have disappeared. So they figured that, after infection, mutation, and distribution, the virus lived long enough to kill its host and then just died out. So they sectioned the body they found, grew its cells in test tubes all over the labs of Junon and Midgar. They thought that these cells had mutagenic properties, that they would turn whatever they touched into more of themselves.

"So, of course, they thought they could mix these cells with human cells and recreate what they found in the first place: an Ancient. Their ticket to the Promised Land.

"But it isn't that simple. I know that now more than anybody.

"I don't know what it does, in the end. I think it just keeps changing, warping the cells more and more, until finally…finally…it's something much more, or less, than human.

"I'll find out someday, I guess.

"I wish I could say I wasn't afraid."

  



	22. 3.1 - Voice of Dissent

Part 3: _Lost/Found_

3-1. Voice of Dissent

The first month passed, and Lucrecia acted outwardly as if everything were the same. She went through the motions of work and leisure, though she studied the Project notes at night--the secret Project notes of the hidden room, not those intended for the boardrooms of Midgar. She read obsessively of the Jenova mice, of their short, tortured lives. She read this in her spare time, and more histories of the Ancients. All else was work and waiting.

Vincent slid through her life like a shadow, praying against signs of change. He slept in her room sometimes, and his embrace was tight and almost despairing. He spoke less often to her than he once had, though his few words were touched with hope. If the procedure hadn't taken, he reasoned, she could still back out. But even as he told her this, in his eyes lurked the wary hurt of the betrayed.

One day Lucrecia prepared the test herself, in the hidden room, while Hojo worked in the main lab. She knew the result before it came back. She'd always known it would be positive.

She reported the results, and the Mako treatments began the next day.

After the veiled menace of their last meeting in the room, Hojo's professional calm was a shock. He was waiting in the room when she arrived, a clipboard clasped to his thin chest. He nodded at her, almost solemnly, and motioned to the chair. "Have a seat, my dear," he murmured, and the offhanded endearment now seemed like less like a threat than a strange sort of tribute.

The chair still stood in the locked laboratory, a dark wedge in the bleached white room, and from then on, Lucrecia always remembered that odd creak of the plastic surface against her skin. But what burned into her mind that day in May was not the darkness of the vinyl, or the dead white of the walls.

It was green…

Hojo retreated to the far end of the room and returned with an armful of apparatus, which he quietly set up by her elbow. A steel stand held up a small silver bag, stamped with the warning insignia of Mako radiation. From the bottom of the bag snaked a length of surgical tubing, and to the end of it, as she watched, he fitted a sterile silver needle.

"Fifty percent Mako and saline," Hojo said quietly, as if reciting a prayer. "And a forty percent suspension of Jenova cells."

_Already?_ Lucrecia thought hopelessly, though she had read the procedures before countless times. _For best results, the treatments should be started as soon as possible…_ And most of the treated mice—the mothers—lived, according to the notes. Most of them lived.

For once, Lucrecia hoped that Hojo had told the truth.

The scientist loosened a clamp at the bottom of the silver bag, and slowly, eerily, a thread of glowing green flowed down the length of the tubing. Lucrecia stared at the dull green glow, captivated by a mixture of fascination and fear. _Mako. The stuff of life itself, the Ancients said… sucked out and bottled up and stamped with Shinra's seal. Bottled heaven, is what it is… heaven or hell. It all depends…_

When the fluid approached the end of the tube, Hojo tightened a second clamp above the needle, arresting its path. He stepped back for a moment, almost reverently, the needle balanced carefully between his fingers. Lucrecia reached out and cupped her hand around the thread of Mako, watching the faded light it reflected onto her skin.

She cleared her throat. "You're sure this is only half and half?"

Hojo nodded. "Positive. I wouldn't jeopardize the life of the Project so soon, would I?"

"The life of the Project?" Lucrecia looked up at him critically. He avoided her gaze, focusing on the splinter of silver in his hand. For a moment he looked almost embarrassed, like a child caught telling fibs by a suspicious mother. Embarrassed… and, of all things, young. It struck her then for the first time how young Hojo really was. She'd always thought of him as an old man, assumed he'd worked for Shinra longer than she'd been in school. Yet now, as he hesitated, finally silent and caught off guard, she realized that without his usual overbearing attitude, his thin face seemed less old than she expected. _Not much older than me, really…twenty-five, twenty-seven? Probably graduated the Academy just before I got in… my God, how could that be? He's so… so bitter, so **used.** What in the world happened to him? I wouldn't want that life…_

_What am I thinking? Stop. Just stop. Think of what this man has said, think of what he's done! He brought it all onto himself, don't fool yourself. He chose to be this heartless bastard, and he deserves every minute of his long, bitter life._

_But…this is all he knows, I guess. At this age… I thought he might have been kinder as a young man, or something, but that can't be it. This is how he **is** as a young man; he's never been otherwise._

_But if so…what will he be like in twenty years?…_

"Yes, the life of the Project, and… well, yours, of course," Hojo muttered. "Shall we continue?"

Lucrecia let go of the tube of Mako. "All right." She drew a deep breath and laid her arm back down on the black vinyl. "Go ahead."

  
  
  


Afterward she returned to the main lab for a few hours. She had some work to do, routine tasks that, now, meant very little. The Midgar contingent still expected results, though, as did Dr. Gast. And she needed something to fill the time, hour by hour, week by endless week. So, although the true future of the JENOVA Project slept deep within her body, Lucrecia opened her old notebook and consulted the most recent round of tests. Hojo remained seated at his desk—his official desk—and bent low over masses of paperwork, throwing suspicious, almost nervous glances at her when he thought she wouldn't notice. She itched to rid herself of his presence, after the last half-hour, lying perfectly still while the green thread of energy—clouded faintly by the experimental cells—flowed through the hypodermic needle into her blood. Hojo had pretended not to watch it, but he could not look away; nor could he dull the spark of triumph in his dark eyes. Lucrecia longed to escape him, for a while. She knew that the beginning of the treatments meant that she would not be able to avoid him for long. But now, for a while, she wished to be alone, to think, to grow accustomed to this new strangeness in her body.

And strange it was; even as she looked over the photographs of the test results, her vision began to swim. She blinked, wiped her glasses futilely with lens-cleaning tissue, and finally resorted to rubbing her temples as if to stave off a headache.

Hojo looked up, predictably. "Is something wrong?"

Lucrecia swallowed. "No, I'm all right." The room whirled drunkenly around her, and she grabbed the edge of the table to keep from falling. A chair scraped across the stone floor, and a moment later she felt Hojo's grip on her shoulders, steadying her from behind.

"This is normal," he said in a quiet tone which he probably meant to sound comforting, but succeeded only in making her shiver. _Normal? How can any of this be normal?_ "For the first few days after exposure, at any rate. You should probably go home. Get some rest."

"No…" she whispered, unable to voice the whole thought.

_No, and be alone, I can't stand to be alone_

—always—

now.

A fragment of a thought had shot through her mind, like an echo, faint and garbled. A wave of sickness rolled slowly through her body, and she slid off the chair, crumpling against Hojo's knees; he was too weak to keep her from falling. Lucrecia braced herself against the reeling sickness, praying that she wouldn't throw up, or faint here on the flagstones at the feet of this monster.

_Just let me get through this and I'll never complain again…just let me get up…_

"Lucrecia!" The voice was so achingly familiar that her heart started to race a moment before her lips formed the word, almost soundlessly.

"Vincent…"

Hojo seized her shoulders and pulled her to her feet as the Turk banged the door shut behind him. "Lucrecia, you were supposed to meet me at twelve; where were you?"

"Nowhere…here," she answered vaguely, fumbling to catch the edge of the table and steady herself. Hojo's grip tightened on her shoulders, and even in her confusion she recognized it as a warning. She pulled out of his grasp and managed to move away a few steps. "I'm sorry, I didn't realize the time."

"It's two-thirty! —And why were you on the floor?"

"She fell," Hojo answered shortly. "Shouldn't you be on duty?"

Vincent's voice chilled sharply. Lucrecia could not look at him, could barely raise her eyes from the floor for fear of bringing on a fresh wave of dizziness. "I wasn't speaking to you, Doctor. And incidentally, I'm stationed in the Mansion today. Lucrecia and I were supposed to meet for lunch in the greenhouse," he added, his anger touched with a hint of challenge.

_—ha. Him, not—_

Lucrecia pressed her hands to her forehead, trying not to show her fear. The strange thought was gone, absorbed into the dizzying swirl in her mind. She dimly heard the two men continue talking, but it took all of her concentration to command her watery muscles to stay solid, to keep her swaying body upright. Their sharp voices cut through the haze, oblivious to her difficulty.

Vincent demanded, "Is that what you're doing? Experimenting on the baby, on _Lucrecia's_ baby?"

"Don't be so sentimental, boy. Besides, the thing's half mine."

A cold shudder passed through Vincent's body, and his face hardened. His eyes were dark steel, staring down the scientist's impassive stone glare. "You don't know that."

"Believe it if you wish, Turk, but the truth will come out soon enough."

"What would _you_ know about truth?" spat the Turk.

Hojo's hands tensed into fists at his sides, but he did not move. "Don't tempt me. I can have you sent back to Midgar before you knew what was happening. You'd never see her again."

Vincent seemed about to speak, but stopped, frustrated. His left hand scratched the back of his head, and as it dropped Hojo's eyes riveted on it. The scientist spoke again, his voice low and tense. "What this Project does is no business of yours, Turk. You'd be well advised to stay out of it."

A level calm had returned to Vincent's voice, more steady than Hojo's poisoned murmur. "Lives are at stake, Hojo. You could hurt them, both of them. If there's any humanity in you at all, you'll realize what you're doing."

The scientist's fury exploded again in a harsh shout. "I realize _perfectly_ what I'm doing, Turk! You have no idea what I'm doing! How could you know? What the hell do you know, you gorilla, you walking firearm? A machine could do what you do, and twice as well! How _dare_ you pretend to understand a mind of my caliber!"

"You think you're a better human being because of your position." It was an observation, not a question.

Hojo made a strangled, guttural sound in his throat. "I _am_ better than you, you muscleheaded oaf, and you'll damn well remember that if you know what's good for you!"

"You don't understand," Vincent said quietly. "You can't do this. No one can, in good conscience. How can you play with others' lives like this? It's not ethical and it's not proper procedure. I do know that much."

The scientist scoffed. "You know nothing. Nothing. How could you possibly grasp what we stand for? How could you know what it is to follow a goal, a _real_ goal, Turk, something greater than individuals, greater than Shinra's damned rules, greater than life itself? What you know is gut reaction and brute force. We know…" Hojo paused for breath for a moment, as if he'd forgotten his train of thought. "Lucrecia and I know what this Project means. To us, to the Corporation, to the entire Planet. We understand what it means to dedicate ourselves to an ideal, to a _goal._ What have you ever done, Turk, except crack poor fools' heads open? What would you know about dedication, about devotion? What could you possibly know?"

Vincent was silent. Lucrecia finally raised her eyes from the floor; he was watching her, his face set into a cold, logical mask, his eyes burning with disappointment and hurt. "I understand it," he said, almost too softly to be heard, without looking away from Lucrecia. "I understand more than you'll ever know."

Hojo turned, following the Turk's gaze. "Well?" he barked. "What do you have to say about all of this? The boy wants to hear; so tell him. What will you do?"

Lucrecia froze, and the sickness in her body and mind lurched along with a new surge of fear. The two men faced her, one in white, one in dark blue. Both waited silently for her answer.

_No… no, don't make me do this,_ she pleaded. _Vincent, you have to understand, please… it's not forever, he won't have me forever, just a little while… and at the end I'll be more than I ever was, better than I am now, just be patient with me, please… just trust me, love, you have to…_

…Hojo, you bastard, if you ever had a shred of decency in you, don't make me say this in front of him… he doesn't deserve this, he doesn't deserve any of this…

She remembered the cold white of the hidden room, the colder scratch of his voice, the silver flash of the needle with its slow green drip. The room spun slowly around her, but she held her place steadily. _I have to do this. I have to. It's too late now to stop, Vincent, you have to understand that. I have to finish this thing I've started…_

—trapped—

Lucrecia closed her eyes, willing away the ragged voice in her head, willing away the cold sting of Hojo's stare and the deep pain in Vincent's eyes. "I will do this," she said quietly, evenly. "I have to."

She saw Vincent's head drop and reached out for him, but it was not enough to keep her from falling. A greenish darkness slid over her like a wave, and dragged her in too deep to see any more.

  



	23. 3.2 - Promise

3-2. Promise

The damp air of the laboratory was almost a relief after the growing heat of early summer; it pressed against Lucrecia's skin like a cool compress, calming the dizziness and nausea that had marred her morning. Her fainting spells were under control now; once in a great while she'd lose consciousness after one of the weekly Mako treatments, but the original crippling vertigo had quieted to a faint dizziness accompanying daily episodes of nausea. _At least that much isn't the treatments' fault…at least not technically,_ she thought with a trace of sarcasm, as she set her books down on her workbench.

The apparatus she'd set up the day before stood on the workbench, its unattended test run complete, the results developed and ready to record. She'd prepared a routine analysis of the proteins in the experimental cells, expecting little more than a dull profile to include in the official Shinra report. Gast had requested this, intending to pacify the jealous protein biochemistry specialists in the Corporation. He had spent much of the last six months placating Shinra officials, making several trips back to Midgar as well as spending hours on the telephone in his office.

_It's just as well,_ Lucrecia thought. She opened the tank of developing fluid where the protein profile, no more than a thin sheet of gelatin, floated. _If he saw what really goes on here he'd probably give the whole thing up..._

Half lost in thought, Lucrecia lifted the fragile layer of gelatin from the developing fluid and spread it on the small viewing platform under the stationary camera. She turned on a light, illuminating the translucent film of proteins and dyes from below, and snapped a few pictures. Setting the pictures aside to develop, she slid the gelatin into a pan of water, to be preserved later.

Slowly the photographs emerged from a gray haze, a pattern of dark dashes against the light background of the gelatin. Each represented a protein from the original cells, pulled into a standard formation by electrical charges and dyed an unnatural blue with chemicals. Lucrecia opened her notes to her previous studies on cell proteins and picked up a black pen, labeling the proteins on one of the photographs. All seemed to have proceeded as expected; the pre-infection, during-infection, and post-infection cells followed the expected profiles. During-infection showed an increased amount in some common proteins, as well as some useless "junk" product. As Shinra had reported, the virus seemed to vanish after infection; pre-infection and post-infection looked almost identical.

Lucrecia finished labeling the three samples and looked them over again. Her pen hovered over an unlabeled band of dye, representing a large protein—seen only in post-infection cells.

_Almost identical…_

Trying to keep down the instinctive leap of excitement, she scanned her notes once again. There was no mention of any proteins of this size in pre-infection cells. No one had yet bothered to do an analysis of the Project cells' proteins; that was to have been a task undertaken by the biochemistry student…

She marked the spot with an arrow and a note, "Unknown protein…?" before slipping one unmarked copy of the photograph into her notebook. The second she put in her folder of materials to send to Midgar; then, standing and walking down the hall—her dizziness cleared by a hum of anticipation—she tossed the last, labeled photograph on the desk of Dr. Gast.

  
  
  


Dr. Gast insisted on The Den in northern Nibelheim for a celebratory dinner, for its privacy as well as for its good reputation among the villagers. The room was dim and cool in the early evening, the air disturbed only by a low murmur of dinner conversation. The calm atmosphere settled Lucrecia's stomach a bit—her nausea was caused not by pregnancy at this hour, but by nervousness. There was much that Gast still did not know, and she feared he would not stay oblivious for long.

"May I take your order, sir?" the waiter asked, appearing from some unnoticed corner of the room.

"Steak for me, medium well, a bottle of your best champagne, and whatever Ms. Gainsborough wants…?"

The waiter and the anthropologist watched her expectantly; Lucrecia felt a flush spread over her cheeks. _I can't drink champagne now, that's for sure._ "Uh, a salad, thanks. And nothing else to drink, just water."

"Very well." With a nod, the waiter retreated.

The scientist's eyes crinkled as he smiled. "You've never seemed to be the dieting type, Ms. Gainsborough."

Lucrecia felt an involuntary smirk stretch her mouth. "I'm not; I just haven't felt very well lately."

Gast's gaze turned a bit critical as Lucrecia took a sip of ice water; she wondered if he could see her too-pale skin in the dim light of the restaurant, or the faint hollowing of her throat and face. "Have you seen a doctor about it?"

_Well, Ms. Gainsborough, we have good and bad news. The good news is that you're not dead yet. The bad news is that you're overworked, sleep-deprived, and half-poisoned. Oh, and pregnant with an alien baby. Congratulations._ Lucrecia suppressed a giggle.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing. Just a strange thought."

"Hm. Are you sure you're all right? You do look a little…odd."

"I'm fine." _Relatively speaking._ "I've been dizzy a lot, and…well, you probably heard about the fainting."

Gast set his water glass down with an abrupt thunk. "_Fainting?_"

_How could he not know?…_ "I just passed out a couple of times. In the lab, mostly." She felt a flush creep up into her face as she spoke. "I'm all right though. It hardly ever happens anymore."

"It still doesn't sound healthy. Maybe you should take a few weeks off and get some rest."

"_Now?_ After what I found today? Besides, it wouldn't help. Trust me."

Gast took another sip of ice water, watching her skeptically. "How can you be sure?"

"Well…" The blush deepened, and she nervously traced circles on the tablecloth with her fingertip. "It's, uh, guaranteed to last at least a few more months."

"What…?"

Lucrecia closed her eyes for a moment, trying not to picture green light. "I'm pregnant," she said quietly. She swallowed, then looked up to Gast's surprised face.

"Y—wh—when are you due?" the elder scientist stammered.

"After the new year."

Gast's look of shock dissolved into a bright smile. "Well—congratulations, then! I had no idea."

Clearing his throat quietly, the waiter reappeared with Gast's champagne and poured it into two flutes with graceful etched patterns. He noted that their dinner would be ready momentarily and vanished again. Gast picked up one of the flutes and raised it. "To the happy parents. Does Vincent know yet?"

Lucrecia smiled, a little ironically, as she clinked her glass against Gast's. "He knows."

Gast drank a sip of the champagne; Lucrecia left hers on the table. "Splendid. I don't mean to be rude, but are you two planning to get married?"

"I think so. Someday, after the Project's over. I…don't think I'm ready yet." Her throat tightened as she remembered Vincent's stricken face, his quiet voice as he looked down at the ring she'd returned. "Partly because of work…"

Gast nodded. "Understood; I don't think any of us could leave the Project at this stage. We're all too involved in it." _If you only knew,_ Lucrecia thought darkly. "Are you sure you'll be all right, though, with all those long hours, constant strain, working around chemicals?…" _I'd rather work longer,_ she thought. _Work gets me away from the chemicals…_ "You can always take a few months' leave; they allow that for new mothers now."

"Only if I have to," she answered truthfully. "I'd rather not leave my work."

Gast laughed. "Spoken like a true scientist." Lucrecia felt an echo of a smile cross her face at the joke. Gast lifted his glass of champagne and drank. "Well then, here's to the newest member of the JENOVA Project." Lucrecia struggled not to look alarmed at the unwitting aptness of his words.

The waiter reappeared, carrying a tray laden with food, and set down their respective meals. Gast thanked him, and he nodded and retreated once again. Lucrecia found that her original nervous tension had subsided quite a bit; she scattered dressing over her salad and swallowed the first few bites without incident. Gast dug into his steak with enthusiasm, pausing for a drink of water and, to Lucrecia's mixed relief and dread, a continuation of the conversation.

"So," Gast began, "what _do_ you plan to do after the child is born?"

Lucrecia swallowed and took a drink of the cool water. "Well… the Project will probably be over by then." She kept down a smile at the irony in that. "I think we'd like to move to Kalm and stay on with Shinra. Vincent wants to get out of Midgar, to somewhere more quiet, which is fine with me."

"Really?" Gast chewed a bite of steak thoughtfully. "I've been thinking more of the quiet life myself, recently. I've been wanting to move back to the country for a few years now, for some peace and quiet, and after this assignment I think I'll need it." He smiled, a warm spark in his blue eyes. "There's a house in Icicle Inn that I've been looking into—it's a village up north, not far from where I grew up. Some tourists, but overall a nice, quiet town. Seemed like a nice place to study."

Lucrecia tapped a forkful of greens against her plate. "That's pretty far from Midgar, isn't it? And Shinra…"

Gast's smile took on an edge of sarcasm. He took a sip of champagne and wiped his mouth on a napkin. "That's more or less the point, Ms. Gainsborough." Lucrecia was too surprised to answer; Gast went on. "It's not far from the Knowlespole, either, or from the last known settlement of the Ancients. I've been researching their culture quite a bit during the past year; it's absolutely fascinating."

The anthropologist continued talking, but Lucrecia's vision blurred, overtaken by a vision of—what was it? Green light, swallowed by a shadow and a spreading taint of red… A shiver of terror seized her body; the shadow was so silent, and swift, and unstoppable…

"Lucrecia?" She looked up suddenly. Gast was leaning over the table, touching her shoulder. He relaxed back into her seat as her vision cleared. "Are you all right?"

She swallowed. "I'm fine, my mind was just…wandering."

Gast's smile returned slightly, and he took another bite of steak. "I'm boring you? Please forgive me, I have a tendency to ramble on about my favorite subjects."

"No, no, trust me, I'm very interested in the Ancients myself. It's just…a momentary fugue, I guess." Embarrassed, Lucrecia returned to her half-finished salad.

"Well, you have a lot on your mind lately, of course."

"That's true." _And you don't know the half of it, she thought. I wish I could tell him…but he wouldn't understand. And I've let him down. Me, his favorite student! It would kill him if he knew._

"Well, it's understandable to worry at this stage," Gast said comfortingly. "I hope when I have children of my own, I can stay as calm as either of you." He smiled and refilled his champagne glass. "Still, worries or not, there's a lot to celebrate tonight. First a breakthrough in the Project, and now this, news of yours and Vincent's first child. Wonderful." Lucrecia's heart sank at the mention of Vincent's child, but she managed to smile back.

"So do you think this will really lead somewhere?" she asked, wishing to turn the conversation away from that subject for a while. "From what I've seen, it could mean a complete turnaround in Shinra's view of the virus."

"It very well could," Gast agreed. "Although it's never easy changing the Corporation's stance on anything. With a few more conclusive tests, though, they can hardly deny it. This is monumental, Ms. Gainsborough. Absolutely monumental."

Lucrecia let a genuine smile break through. "I hoped so. In all this time, we never believed that the virus remained dormant after infection—and especially not in some new form. If it is what I suspect, and the virus somehow becomes dormant as a protein, this could be a new concept for all of virology. This has _literally_ never been seen before, Dr. Gast. I can hardly believe it myself."

"Do you think that's what happened?" Gast asked.

Lucrecia nodded and finished off the last of her salad, absorbed in the topic. "As I see it, we may be able to figure out a better picture of the virus' life cycle. Like a normal virus, it invades the body and enters the cells. Then, as we already know, it starts to mutate the cells into a similar but genetically distinct form. Up until now, we thought the virus died out at this point. But apparently, somehow—maybe by transcribing all of its genetic material into one protein, if that's possible—it becomes dormant in protein form and lives on, undetected until now."

Gast shook his head in disbelief. "So… you think all those cells we've used until now…"

"…actually carry live Jenova virus, yes. That's one of the main implications of this. The other is that we may be able to bring back the virus by manipulating or reproducing the protein. We haven't seen live, pre-infection viruses, ever. As far as we knew, they never existed within our lifetimes. All we've seen is tissue that's been infected with the virus, never the actual bug itself. This could change our whole approach to Jenova research."

A thought intruded into her mind, murkier and sludgier than the clean, efficient race of reason. _Hojo already changed the approach to Jenova research…three months ago, with some needles and chloroform and seven tanks of Mako…_

Now…with this new finding…is that even necessary…?

Don't think about that now.

"Amazing," Gast marveled. "We'll have to get word of this to Midgar as soon as possible."

A half-smile slipped over Lucrecia's face. "Yes, sir. It's an exciting prospect."

"And one those money-minded slow thinkers back in Midgar should pay attention to, if they have any sense." Gast finished the last piece of steak and drank the rest of the champagne in his glass. He filled it one more time, halfway, and held it up. Lucrecia picked up her own untouched glass, now mostly flat.

"To the future," Gast said. "Shinra's, the Project's, mine, yours, everyone's. Cheers."

"Cheers," Lucrecia replied, not wanting to repeat the original toast. She clinked her glass against Gast's and set it down carefully.

_He really doesn't know…_

Of all things, the future is one of the few I truly fear.

  



	24. 3.3 - Summoning

3-3. Summoning

_Your attendance is requested at the marriage of Elmyra Anthesa Gainsborough_

_Elly always hated her middle name,_ Lucrecia thought with a small smile, as she read the dainty white card. It had arrived in the mail that afternoon, and now, resting at the table with her feet up on a chair, she took the time to read it.

_to Reece Andreas Logan_

_So they both have killer middle names,_ she thought wryly. _Not that my "Meresia" is much better—the whole rhyme thing!—but still._

_The ceremony will be held at Our Lady of the Flowers Chapel,  
Sector Five, Lower Midgar  
August 1, eleven a.m.  
Reception following at the bride's residence,  
1143 Third Circle, Sector Five, Lower Midgar._

It seemed strange to see her own address—her childhood address, at least—printed in this flowing silver script. Stranger still was seeing her baby sister's name, middle name and all, in the fancy phrasing usually reserved for grownups. Elmyra and Reece were supposed to get married someday, her sister had said…but here it was, staring her in the face in the form of a lacy but very real card from the neighborhood printer's. Elly, sweet, pretty, _young_ Elly, was going to be a married woman.

_One married, one with children; isn't that odd?_

Quiet. I chose this. I think.

Quiet.

Lucrecia slid the card back into its envelope and stood, restlessly, rocking her weight back and forth between her sore feet. _Why didn't she mention this before? This isn't something that can come up suddenly..._

But if that's the case, why are the invitations going out two months before the ceremony? I don't think that's custom. When Mother's sisters got married, we knew ages before. And what about our parents? What do they have to say to all of this?

Lucrecia checked her watch and did a quick addition: it would be the middle of the night in Midgar. Far too late to call. She set the envelope down on the bookcase just as a quiet knock on the door interrupted the flow of her thoughts. Frowning slightly, Lucrecia crossed the room and opened the door on a uniformed Vincent Valentine. He smiled a little at the sight of her, softening her own unease.

"Vincent." She leaned close to him to give his cheek a kiss as her smile returned. It was a great comfort to see him, even now. "I thought you were on duty tonight."

"I am." Vincent glanced back into the hallway, then kissed her quickly on the lips. When they parted he held out a long envelope, his businesslike manner returned but for a faint spark in his eyes. "This came by courier, directly from Midgar."

"Ooh, fancy." She took the envelope and started to work one corner of the flap loose. "Speaking of Midgar, did you get the invitation to Elly's wedding?"

"Yes; I checked all of the Shinra mail. You and I and Dr. Gast all got them."

"Aww, no Hojo?" Lucrecia ripped the envelope open with a twist of her wrist. The tearing paper roared through Vincent's sudden silence. Lucrecia looked up. "I was kidding."

"Oh." Vincent's uneasy tension slackened, and he cracked a shadow of a smile.

Lucrecia unfolded the single sheet of top-grade paper and read quickly and silently, her mood cooling to match her lover's.

Attn: Dr. Theophilus Gast, Chairman, Shinra Inc. Biological Research Department; Dr. Horace Jones, Vice-chairman, Shinra Inc. Biological Research Department; Lucrecia Gainsborough, Shinra Inc. Biological Research Department An urgent advisory meeting is in order for all members of Shinra Inc. Project #593820-J, also known as the JENOVA Project. Due to recent discoveries by this research team, it is imperative that a clear, mutually beneficial course of action be determined and executed. At the request of Dr. Gast, the meeting will be held on August 2 at 9 a.m. All involved personnel will meet promptly in the Executive Board Room, Floor 66, Shinra Building, Upper Midgar. Cordially, Theodore Lon Chairman, Shinra Inc. Public Relations

"What is it?"

"I think…" The hand holding the paper slowly dropped. "I think Shinra's not happy with something I found."

Vincent frowned. "I thought you were making progress again. You said you were finally getting closer to the truth."

"I was. I am. But…" She looked up at Vincent in his Turk's blue. "The truth isn't all the Corporation has in mind." Lucrecia folded her arms across her chest in the wake of a sudden chill. Vincent stepped past the threshold and held her, without regard for any who might see.

  
  
  


It was nearly two in the morning before the last few tests were finished and the results typed and filed in preparation for the next day's trip to Midgar. Exhausted, Lucrecia dragged her leaden body from the lab directly to Hojo's study down the hall.

The physiologist answered her knock at the door, his usually pale face drawn and grayish with fatigue. Lucrecia knew he'd been waiting for at least eight hours, striving to put his own affairs in order before the summit. His desk was piled with folders and papers, and, she noticed, a not-quite-full bottle of Kalm whisky.

"Lucrecia," he muttered as she entered. "I trust your reports are finished."

"Yes, finally," Lucrecia sighed, heading straight for the padded chair in the center of the room. Lying down, even here, seemed like such a sweet luxury at this hour. "I know you and Dr. Gast have been busy this week, too, but…" She collapsed into the chair, sighing in spite of herself, and rested her head against the high back. "I just…I don't know." She lifted one hand to her forehead, massaging her temples. "I could say it's been a rough week, but that doesn't even begin to cover it." She laughed halfheartedly and dropped her hand to her side, keeping her eyes closed against the cold white light.

She heard Hojo's dry chuckle from somewhere on her right. "The burden of proof is on you, my dear, and most of Shinra's bureaucratic torture." He carefully lowered the chair to a reclining position. "Well… no matter. I imagine you're prepared." Through the low buzzing in her head—_funny, that's only supposed to kick in **after** the treatments start,_ she thought—she felt the scientist's light touch on her wrist, rolling up her sleeve. Wary but too tired to protest, she let him expose the pale, bruised skin of her inner arm and probe gently for an available vein.

"Ow. What is this, number twenty-five?"

"Seventeen," Hojo answered absently.

Lucrecia groaned. "I look like some Mako addict from the slums."

"Hm," muttered the scientist, as he turned away to wheel in the unearthly metal skeleton that held the cell-and-Mako drip. Lucrecia flinched as the needle bit into her flesh, then slowly relaxed. The low, humming dizziness that accompanied the treatments merged with the heavy weight of sleep already hanging on her mind, lulling her close to unconsciousness. Only Hojo's voice lifted her out of it. "Speaking of the slums, I've heard something about… something happening… the day before the meeting."

Lucrecia opened her eyes a bit; Hojo had retreated to his chair, which was pulled up near the vinyl chair she lay in. His thin hands lay limp on the arms of the chair, and the fluorescent light reflected from his glasses, obscuring his eyes.

"Hm?…oh… yeah," she replied foggily. "Um, my sister. My…my sister is getting married."

"I see. To that guard from the winter party?"

"Mm-hmm. Reece."

"You'll be leaving early, then, I assume. I would advise you not to fly."

"Yeah, yeah, I know… Dr. Gast and Vincent said the same thing." She yawned, then stopped short with a grunt of pain as an involuntary stretch moved the needle. She lay back and stared up at the thinly green, faintly murky fluid in the tube as it descended toward her arm. The silver shielding on the bag prevented her from seeing exactly how much was being dispensed, but she thought she could see the bag shrinking slowly. Her free hand moved absently to her swollen stomach, resting there without moving. She dimly sensed that Hojo was watching it all.

The air was motionless at this hour, the house above still and empty, the lab quiet but for the faint, dream-addled scratching of the slumbering Mako mice. The scientist's voice was low, almost inaudible, as if he were speaking more to himself than to Lucrecia. His normally acerbic tones were neutral and flat with encroaching sleep and a trace of alcohol. "Vincent, you said. Vincent Valentine, that Turk… you still persist in seeing him."

"Of course," Lucrecia muttered, not sure whether she were answering to reality or a strange, Mako-induced dream. "I love him."

There was silence for a time. The trace of green pulsed softly against the room's white light. "I don't see what he can possibly offer you."

"He loves me."

Silence. "You make it sound so simple."

"It is. And… and he's good to me. Respects me, listens to me, all of that."

"That's hardly extraordinary. Any man would do the same."

"No one has so far…"

"Besides, your decision to follow the Project crushed him. The boy must be a fool to go on with it after that… a fool or a masochist."

"No… I don't know. He knows…"

"And he's hardly…" The voice trailed off into nothing, leaving the sentence forever unspoken.

"…he knows…"

_Vincent, at the door, when I came home from work aching and disgusted…_

…there, always there, with that sense he has of knowing…

Vincent at the ball, killing to keep me safe, that immense potential for evil turned to good…

…because he knew he was the only one I…

Vincent telling me, in secret, how good, how beautiful he thinks I am…

…holding me when I can't breathe for crying, late at night, from the ruination of my life, because…

He said he loves me, that he'll stay with me even after this. Because he loves me and he knows…

He knows…

"…he knows I need him."

Silence.

"Is that all."

"And I love him…"

Silence.

The green light slid silently into her blood, carrying with it the seeds of destruction.

"Do you."

Silence.

"There is no reason in what you say. None at all." She heard no sound, but clinically careful hands now lay over the sleeping power in her body, over the thing that was not quite hers and not quite another's. "But there's nothing I can do about it now."

Silence.

"Not at the moment…"

The voice said no more, and Lucrecia slid completely into a featureless darkness. In time the loaded thrum of energy faded away, and she drifted close enough to light to hear voices, two of them. Both voices were familiar, hard-edged and unclear, like knives concealed in velvet. She felt herself lifted, uncertainly, then surely, bundled up like a child. She went limp again with relief, smelling the faint sweetness of a familiar cologne.

"I swear to God, Hojo, if you've drugged her again—"

"Quiet. She's asleep; she's exhausted. Take her home and see that she sleeps until the train leaves tomorrow."

The silence now was different, charged with energy.

"Valentine."

No answer.

"If anything happens to her, I'll see that you live to regret it."

The world warped around this, the silence between these two men. It stretched from horizon to horizon, to the end of the world. "Nothing will happen. She'll finally be away from you."

Silence. Lucrecia let herself slide away in it now, knowing that Vincent's arms were around her somewhere, in another world.

  



	25. 3.4 - Heaven's Love

3-4. Heaven's Love

A small group of family, childhood friends, and neighbors, dressed carefully in the best clothes they owned, gathered in the Sector Five church amid an explosion of flowers. A starry foam of white anemones crashed against the walls, part of an intricate wooden lattice entwined with pale stalks of lavender and clouds of baby's breath. The pews were garlanded with green ribbons, interwoven with lavender and small sprays of precious white orchids and pink roses. It was some of the finest stock the Gainsborough garden owned; the bride's bookish sister Lucrecia had traced the ancestry of these plants in her childhood, and the bride, known for her spirited wit and carefree conversation, had nursed these plants with trained tenderness and ceaseless patience for their role in this day.

Elmyra Anthesa Gainsborough and Reece Andreas Logan stood facing one another, their hands linked, under an archway of delicate white blossoms and rippling green ribbons. All they knew in the world waited below in the pews, breathless with anticipation, but they saw only each other. Reece wore his dress uniform, and Elmyra a newly green-embroidered dress which had once seen a Shinra ball, but despite the familiarity of their clothes, each sight their eyes fell on seemed created for this day, floated into the world on this sea of flowers. The two had known each other for years, but felt as if they were lost in unfamiliar and exhilarating territory. Each saw the other transfigured by the moment, made eternally beautiful by this unique mixture of love and terror.

At the priestess's solemn nod, the two began to recite the final prayer, their voices stumbling a little together, nestling comfortably against one another.

_Let us be one,_ they began, and the congregation silently whispered the words with them, reliving or hoping or simply feeling for these two, set so precariously against the uncertainty of the world.

_Let our souls be one in this life.  
Let the world which made us all rejoice,  
for we are all one soul in eternity.  
For you I have shown my love.  
Let it flow as a light, endlessly,  
for light and love are life,  
three as one in heaven, two as one on earth.  
Let us join in Heaven's love.  
Let us be one._

The priestess lifted her hands to the couple in blessing, repeating the ending phrases in an ancient tongue. "_Sephiaera,_" she murmured, _heaven's love_; the calm evenness of her voice made the ancient word sound like music. "May your love bind you throughout your lives, Reece and Elmyra Logan. Go in peace, and brighten the world."

"Go in peace," echoed the watchers in one gratified sigh. The couple at the altar embraced, and Reece nearly lifted Elmyra off the ground in his excitement. For a long time it seemed that they had forgotten the ceremony, lost in their own world. A faint glimmer of tears flashed on Elmyra's cheek for a moment, but when they turned toward the church, her face showed only undiluted happiness. The pair seemed innocent of time, innocent of the dark world outside the sanctuary doors, of the vicious whispers of war. Two envelopes lay calmly on the counter in the bride's kitchen, a summons and an announcement; for the moment, only one counted.

In the pews, lost among the small crowd of celebrants, a silent young man tightly squeezed the hand of the young woman next to him, who sat without moving despite the desperate fervor in her eyes. The watchers stood to face the bridal couple as they proceeded down the aisle and out of the church. When they had gone and the crowd broke up into happy chaos, the ceremony transforming into a parade to the reception, the young man could not hide his bitter tears.

  
  


The humble house in the Midgar slums had been zealously cleaned and polished, every room dedicated to the entertainment of the small party of well-wishers. The bride and groom stood just inside the door, welcoming friends, old schoolmates, ancient relatives wishing peace for their parents' souls, and more than a few Shinra guards in their green dress uniforms. Reece thumped his mates on the back and directed them toward the wine while Elmyra charmingly deflected any mention of the upcoming war.

The last pair in line straggled in late, having fallen back to the pace of the granddames and great-uncles. Elmyra startled at the sight of a man in dark blue, but a smile dawned over her face when she saw her sister beside him. She rushed from the house, her golden gown catching the stray flecks of sunlight, and swept her sister into a joyful embrace. "Lucie, Lucie! I couldn't wait to see you, I'm so glad you could come! How have you been, I haven't heard from you in ages—"

"I'm fine, Elly," Lucrecia said with the beginnings of a smile, as she gently freed herself from her sibling's grasp. "Ask me again tomorrow night, but right now I'm fine."

Elmyra laughed. "Dr. Gast told me about the meeting when he came in. You'll do great, Luce; you have more science knowhow in your little finger than the President's entire cabinet. Don't worry about it. And Vince…ent!" she corrected herself. "Sorry. How have you been?"

"I've seen worse, Mrs. Logan," Vincent replied simply. "Thanks for your concern."

"'Mrs. Logan!'" Elmyra giggled. "I guess it's right, but it sounds so formal! Don't let him call you 'Mrs. Valentine', Lucie. You'll sound like a pair of old codgers before you're thirty." Vincent, watching Lucrecia carefully, caught the flash of panic in her eyes, but her preoccupied sister charged on ahead. "And why didn't I hear about this?" Her slender hands spread across her sister's stomach, which couldn't be hidden even under her loose gown. "How far along are you, six months or so?"

"Four," Lucrecia said quietly.

"Gods, Lucie, you've got to be kidding. You're _huge_ for only four months. Are you sure you're not carrying a whole litter there?" The younger Gainsborough giggled, unaware of the glassy panic coalescing in her sister's eyes. Vincent took Lucrecia's arm gently, startling her out of her frozen stare. Lucrecia shook her head, blinking the stupor away.

"Are you all right?" Elmyra asked, looking at her sister more closely. "You look a little pale." She tipped her head slightly, frowning. "No, you look _very_ pale. And your eyes…"

"No—no, I'm all right," Lucrecia stammered, waving her sister's hand away. "It's probably just the light down here, you know, makes things look unnatural…" Vincent nudged the besieged scientist toward the door by her arm, murmuring a final thank-you to Elmyra. The younger Gainsborough reached up to squeeze Vincent's shoulder, offering a sincere smile up at him. It was the last time he spoke to her for a very long time. "Congratulations," she whispered, just before they passed through the door.

The Gainsborough homestead had taken on a carnival atmosphere, one not without its fleeting whiff of doom. At least a third of the guests were low-ranking soldiers in dress green, and many of the others—Elmyra's neighbors and former schoolmates, as well as family—had the harried good nature of lower-echelon Shinra. Vincent was the only one dressed in Turk blue, and as he guided Lucrecia toward the refreshment table he noticed a few curious stares. A few were directed at Lucrecia, particularly from elderly female relatives, who whispered to each other and nodded in smug satisfaction. The majority of the attention, however, was drawn to Vincent. Their eyes darted away if he looked toward them, but he caught their looks of nervous awe. The sight of the crowd at the Crystal Room ball came back to him sharply: a sea of bovine stares, sliding uselessly over him as he ran for the door in a spreading slick of red. These were the same sad cattle, these tired guests from the wedding, gazing with blank amazement at the Corporation's hired killer.

Lucrecia took a cup of water, but nothing else. She kept close to Vincent, seeming wary of the other guests and unwilling to speak. She smiled faintly at the few who approached her and mumbled variations on the theme that she was happy for Elmyra, and yes, she was doing just fine, thank you. Before half an hour had passed she asked if they might go upstairs to get away from the crowd. Vincent was all too happy to oblige.

Lucrecia slipped ahead, leading Vincent by the hand to a small room on the second floor. She spread her arms wide and gratefully sank to the bed, hugging the pillows. "This used to be my old room," she sighed happily. "Seems so long ago now…" Her voice drifted off as she closed her eyes. "I'm sorry, Vincent," she said softly. "I'm just so tired… and it was too loud down there…"

"I don't mind," he replied. "Rest if you like. Or sleep; I'll make sure no one bothers you."

"Thank you," she said, with a faint but genuine smile. "I've had such terrible nightmares lately, but I think I'll be all right here…" She yawned and closed her eyes again, settling into a grateful sleep.

Vincent quietly crossed the room to the window and looked down into the Gainsboroughs' garden, the center of the family trade and Elmyra's prized possession. Despite the weak light under the plate, the plants thrived; party guests wandered among them, talking or admiring the flowers. Outside, Elmyra was unable to police their topics of conversation. Vincent didn't doubt that the predominating issue in the garden was the war with Wutai.

The silent Turk turned away and knelt next to Lucrecia's bed. She seemed close to sleep, though not entirely lost to it. The panic had faded from her face, though it still bore the signs of strain that had plagued her for the last few months. Her skin was unusually pale, as her sister had guessed; here, lit only by dim, indirect sunlight, it seemed as smooth and translucent as porcelain. He covered her white hand with his, and the movement stirred her enough to open her eyes a little and smile at him before slipping back into near-sleep. In that moment he'd seen, as Elmyra had, something that had missed his attention so far. It had crept in so slowly that he had not seen it, though he saw his beloved nearly every day.

Her brown eyes glowed with a faint amber light.

Mako. Vincent remembered the addicts of the worst Midgar alleys, raving lunatics with glowing eyes—

He shoved the thought from his mind. Lucrecia was nothing like that.

Vincent watched her for a long time, as the afternoon light yellowed and strengthened. She had changed. He could no longer deny that. She seemed less like the woman he'd loved last summer, quick-witted and focused, uncertain but strong. She was quieter now, more withdrawn, and a preoccupation lay between her thoughts and her words. To him she seemed to be touched by something unexplainable, something beyond normal bounds. It was almost as if she were possessed by a subtle spirit, or afflicted by a sickness of mysterious origin. He condemned himself for such superstitious ideas, but his heart still felt a new thrill of fear when he touched her, as if she were something either deadly or sanctified.

He drew his hand away from hers, absently fingering the ring on his left hand. He still wore it religiously, the diamond turned away from view as she had first placed it. Though he had failed once in giving it to her, he would offer it again someday. If he failed a second time, he would offer it again. He would not let his mistakes go unrectified. He would see that Lucrecia had a happy life, if it took all the time and energy he possessed. Vincent still loved her, of course. He could not imagine a circumstance that could kill that love. She had rejected his offer of marriage, had consented to the touch of another man—and still Vincent loved her. In the last few months, he found that he loved her in a way he could no longer explain. She seemed to have been altered from the woman he'd been so infatuated with, but yet he could imagine no greater happiness than to shield her from all harm until her real self returned. The Lucrecia he'd first loved was gone, leaving this beautiful and breakable angel in her place—and Vincent loved this too, with a hurtful, fatalistic intensity. Lucrecia, the capable, living Lucrecia he first loved, would come back to him. He would wait until she did, and protect the glass goddess Lucrecia… and her inexplicable child.

It was another man's child, he reminded himself consistently; he would not allow himself to dream that it might be his own. Still, it was hers, and out of love for Lucrecia he would protect her child as well. When the child was born and Lucrecia recovered from the draining effects of nurturing it, all three of them could escape from Nibelheim, defying Shinra and Hojo and any others who would keep them apart. Vincent leaned his forehead against the covers, hiding his face. There was no greater dream in his heart than this: the calm safety of the wilderness or some obscure town, the woman he loved, her misbegotten but still cherished child—and any others that might come, touched with Vincent's dark eyes or his quiet manner. No one would bother them there, far from the demanding gaze of Shinra. He would never again have to feel the cold smoothness of metal in his hand, melded with Shinra's will to make him a living instrument of death. They would know quiet happiness, and consistency, and peace.

Vincent nearly wept, thinking about it. He hadn't known such peace for over twenty years, when the distant dream of childhood had been shattered by fate and a speeding subway. All of the love and warmth he had known were reduced to a bright, indistinct impression, a watercolor painting washed by rain. He would capture such peace again, even if it meant defying Shinra. Even if it meant going into hiding with those he held most dear. All of them, everything he loved, would be safe. He would see to that any way he could.

Things would be normal again someday.

Lucrecia's childhood bedroom was quiet; the talk of the reception guests did not penetrate the solid wooden walls of the house. Vincent slowly stood and pulled a blanket over the still body of his beloved. Pausing by the foot of the bed, he slipped off his suit jacket and loosened his tie, then draped both of them over Lucrecia's feet. The guests still might remember his face from the debacle at the party, but he wanted as little as possible to brand him as a Turk. Vincent checked once more to see that Lucrecia slept peacefully, then stepped into the hall and closed the door behind him without a sound.

  



	26. 3.5 - All the World's Glory

3-5. All the World's Glory

The sky over Midgar was a sullen, sludgy soup of soot and ashes. A ring of glowing wood-burning power plants, Shinra's aging jewels, studded the outer edge of the upper plate. Burning the last of the forests that had once surrounded the city, their furnaces spewed forth a constant cloud of smoke that would take half a century to clear. Under the massive steel plate lay the crowded, skyless slums, but even on the upper level of the Shinra bureaucrats and the hereditary rich, lit with floodlights, blinking marquees and searing neon, there was no sun.

In the center of the Midgar megalopolis stood a single tower, rising above all other buildings as if by divine right. The forges its engineers had built to finance it silently circled the city, their fires glowing like the eyes of dying serpents; but this monolith was glassily vibrant, stabbing directly toward heaven from the depths of hell. It was always alive, always exerting a subliminal will on all who viewed it. No one who beheld its sheer presence could forget the power that had built a city literally on the backs of the poor, then erected this high-tech monument as its home.

It was seventy stories high and packed top to bottom with the countless human cogs of Shinra Electric Company, Incorporated. Clearly, its interests had diversified beyond the merely electric.

Dr. Theophilus Gast and Lucrecia Gainsborough, two-thirds of the JENOVA Project, stood at the foot of the Shinra, Inc. headquarters and gathered their courage. Lucrecia had woken in her company-supplied hotel room with only a dim memory of leaving her sister's house, then spent the next hour slumped on the tile floor of the tiny hotel bathroom, too sick to stand. Now, with her queasiness due only to nervousness and her head cleared of the last mistiness of sleep, she stared up at the apparition of Shinra Headquarters—so familiar a sight during her years in Research, but so strange now, after all that had happened in Nibelheim—and felt as if she'd drifted back into a surreal dream.

"All right," Dr. Gast said quietly beside her. Lucrecia could not tell whether he spoke to her or to himself. "Courage."

Lucrecia drew a deep breath and tightened her hold on her stack of papers and forms, photographs, charts, references and precedents, all the proof in the world that the Project and her work were vital to the Corporation. Drawing strength from the sight of the Shinra Building—home of the brightest years of her career so far—she followed her mentor through the doors of the monolith.

The scientists flashed their identification cards toward the guard at the door; Lucrecia remembered this, too, an action that had once seemed like a reflex. Dr. Gast keyed them into the elevators, which remained empty as they soared through the glass tube, past story upon story full of file clerks, sleepy security guards, neglected stacks of books, bureaucrats, bean-counters, figureheads, and enough paperwork to bury a small city. The filtered, dry office air filled Lucrecia's lungs, now so accustomed to the bracing mountain air of Nibelheim. With it came years of memories and headaches. Shinra Headquarters was a tense circus of absurdity, twenty-four hours a day, and no one who worked there ever fully recovered.

The sixty-sixth floor seemed oblivious to the summit it hosted; the receptionist in the front room merely checked their ID cards against a typed list and nodded expressionlessly. The first sign of the JENOVA meeting came in the form of a nondescript Shinra employee, who burst into the room just after Gast and Lucrecia had finished their check-in.

"Coffee! The freakin' lunatic!"

"Problem, Dave?" the receptionist asked calmly, and turned a page in his _Midgar Examiner._

"_Yes!_ I'm a transcriptionist, not a freaking gofer! Where's the damn coffee?"

"Right where it always is," answered the receptionist. "But, uh… don't take any for yourself, all right?"

"Of _course_ not. I'm here to fetch and carry for that jerk from R&D. Thank God and my mother I went to business school. If I worked up on sixty-seven I think I'd _kill_ somebody."

Lucrecia stifled a smirk, and behind her Dr. Gast pretended to study a bulletin board to hide his more famous face. The transcriptionist-turned-errand-runner poured a large cup of coffee while muttering a string of curses under his breath. "There. Clark, tell me not to pour this over the weasel's head."

"Don't pour it over the weasel's head, Dave."

"Thank you! Goodbye!" The door shut behind the transcriptionist's clutched hands and flying tie. Dr. Gast turned, with a wide smile he'd been unable to stifle. A moment passed before Lucrecia broke out into a torrent of giggles. She missed Shelan suddenly, an unexplainable longing that pulled at the back of her mind. Maybe he would be at the meeting…

"I suppose you've had days like this," remarked the receptionist, opening the classified ads.

Gast chuckled. "_Years_, my friend. Years."

  
  


Two of the President's personal bodyguards opened the heavy wooden doors of the executive boardroom. Lucrecia's courage quailed for a moment as she caught sight of several of her superiors around the immense oak table, some shuffling through paperwork, some glaring irritably into space. The imposing atmosphere was soon broken by a faint, unpleasant smell in the air and a familiar voice, rising above the murmur of conversation in its traditional morning tirade.

"What is this sludge? I sent you to get _coffee_, you useless drone!"

"Sir, it's fresh-ground Mideeli." Gast caught Lucrecia's eye and smirked: Dave the transcriptionist, trying valiantly to assume a semblance of calm.

"It's fresh-ground Mideeli sludge. And it's cold. Get rid of it."

"Fine." Dave seized the offending cup and took a deep drink of it, then stalked away without a word. He settled into a small desk away from the central table, and turned on a small, sinister-looking black machine.

Deprived of coffee, Hojo continued his harangue. "And another thing! Palmer!"

"Yes!" yelped the young Space Program head from across the table.

"You sent the most disrespectful, foul-mouthed young upstart to fly that plane! What were you thinking?"

"Well… I…" sputtered Palmer, his hands fluttering nervously across the stretched vest of his suit, at a loss for words. He showed little more capability now than he had as the President's crony in a Midgar prep school, ten years ago.

"Is it wrong to wish they'd crashed?" muttered the transcriptionist, from his post behind Lucrecia.

Dr. Gast laughed. "Probably."

A short but imposing figure paused in the doorway, and most of the conversation in the room stilled. The bodyguards pulled the doors shut as the most powerful man in the world, a pudgy man of about thirty, slowly walked to his seat at the far end and took his seat, as his bodyguards flanked his chair like a pair of heavy-set hawks. The young president looked down the length of the table, regarding the small group through half-lidded eyes. Around the rest of the table sat his cabinet, most of whom were underhanded social climbers once kept down by his father's more obvious methods. Only a few embraced the blustering force of his predecessor, and it was rumored that their tenure in the Corporation was near an end. In addition to this cadre of Shinra's highest-ranking employees, the table also included two of Shinra's merciless middle managers, one driven transcriptionist, and a graduate student named Lucrecia Gainsborough.

There were no press, and no low-ranking employees other than the bodyguards. The unfiltered reports of this meeting would never see the light of day; the transcriptionist's record would be rewritten by the winner of the debate, and the world would know that account as truth.

Beside Lucrecia, Gast's face was calm and determined. He would fight for the Project as long as he could, she knew, but the central fight—the fight for her own discoveries, the fight to tell the world that the Jenova-virus was still alive—was hers alone.

The Shinra President stood, betraying his less-than-impressive height and girth as he left the shadow of his throne-like chair. Though he addressed the group in general, his gaze lingered somewhere around the opposite end of the table. The Vice-President's seat was still empty.

Shinra began, "I have brought you all here for a matter that concerns not only all of us, but all of mankind. Technology has always been a double-edged sword, sometimes allowing the Corporation to move ahead, other times stalling it with public concerns." His eyes slid quickly to the middle-aged man next to the Vice President's empty seat, whom Lucrecia recognized as Shay Garkis, the head of Urban Development. The President continued, "We are faced today with a weighty decision. The JENOVA Project is Shinra's most prestigious research project, and it has turned up more disturbing finds than we could ever anticipate.

"Today we will decide whether to pursue these finds, or let them go unspoken for the sake of mankind."

The President took his seat once again. Lucrecia focused on her notes once again. The President's mind was all but made up, that much was clear. Still, there were seven other men at the table to convince. Six: Gast was behind her. And ironically, so was Hojo; the Project was his masterwork, no matter how he twisted it. Five, then. Not so many, after all….

Dr. Gast stood, facing his supposed equals; he led Research as these men led Shinra's other arms—building, weapons, space exploration—but among them he seemed somehow out of place. For the first time Lucrecia felt worried for her mentor.

She listened and let her nerves settle as Gast outlined the JENOVA Project for his skeptical audience. He explained, calmly and reasonably, the discovery of the Ancient burials in the Northern Crater, which the Ancients had called the Knowlespole. He told of the virus Sephirisena, which modern times had renamed Jenova. And then, before Lucrecia realized, he was reciting credentials that sounded terrifyingly familiar.

"…leading her graduating class at the Midgar Science Academy last year…"

She breathed in, breathed out, scanned her notes yet again. The transcriptionist's machine hummed and clicked behind her, recording its erasable history.

"…Lucrecia Gainsborough."

Gast sat down. Lucrecia rose to her feet, ignoring the fleeting, dubious glances of the cabinet. If hearing about deadly virology from an obviously pregnant young woman offended their old-fashioned sensibilities, it was their loss. Full speed ahead. "Most of what we know about Jenova is second-hand," she began. "Anthropologists, Dr. Gast among them, have translated all the records we could find from the Ancients, but even those didn't give us a clear picture of what Jenova really was. The Ancients had a highly developed system of curing their wounded, but didn't understand what was happening to them when Jenova came. Without modern technology even the common cold virus was unknown to them, let alone a virus capable of driving a healthy adult mad within weeks.

"So when we began to study the virus, it was exploration as much as analysis. We managed to recover the virus from the frozen body of one of its victims and cultured it in Shinra's research lab, a project headed by Dr. Jones." She fended off the impulse to shiver at the thought of having to refer to Hojo by such an honorific. "Early in the JENOVA studies in Nibelheim, we confirmed an early hypothesis about the virus. In the Cetra it was documented to cause only minor physical effects, but when exposed to cells in culture we found that the virus transformed the cells—mutated them, if you will—very easily. Even more importantly, the effect it had on human cells closely resembled the characteristics of cultured Ancient cells. This, of course, seemed to be the silver bullet Shinra was looking for: a way to capture the powers of the Cetra by recreating the Cetra themselves." A few of the listeners nodded faintly; this was a dream they'd all heard before.

Lucrecia took a deep breath. "This is where the Project stood until very recently. However, while studying the virus further I found something which has challenged our ideas of Jenova's very nature. We'd assumed that the Jenova virus' life cycle was to infect a body, then influence its cells' growth, causing the hallucinations and death seen in the Cetra epidemic. After that stage, we'd never seen any live viruses, so we assumed the virus died out—its job was done, so to speak, once the virus had spread to another host. But these recent findings seem to suggest that the virus never dies out; it only becomes dormant in the host cell, maybe forever, maybe until some unknown trigger activates it again. Once infected with Jenova, a cell—or a body—never really recovers."

She doubted that all of the men around the massive table really knew what she meant, but they all sensed that this did not bode well for Shinra's silver bullet. "This means, therefore, that there are unheard-of opportunities to study this virus, because it has a life cycle completely unlike anything we've ever seen. It also means that the virus is much more dangerous than we believed, because it can't be used simply as a means of mutating an organism into a neo-Cetra. Once it mutates, it stays in the body. This is an uncertainty we don't yet know how to deal with."

Dr. Gast stood, before any questions could be fired. "Gentlemen, you have heard the background. We now set before you this proposition: will the JENOVA Project continue along this path? We may yet be able to discover a way to recreate the Cetra, which was Shinra's original aim. We may discover more about this lifeform, and about life from our planet, than we even imagined possible. It is potentially dangerous, as all discoveries are potentially dangerous. But on the other hand, we have not only Shinra's ambition to find the Ancients' Promised Land, but progress and discovery itself. The rest is up to you, gentlemen: the fate of the JENOVA Project is in your hands." He sat down again, and Lucrecia, feeling her stomach waver with fear, sank into her seat as well.

"The panel is now open for discussion," announced the President. "Dr. Gast, Dr. Jones, and Miss Gainsborough will field any questions."

Garkis, the Urban Development chairman, raised a hand. Gast nodded for him to continue. "You said Jenova never really leaves the body, right? So we can't cure it."

"Not currently," said Hojo flatly. "We have no way of curing any viral disease outright."

"So if it ever gets loose, we could have an incurable disease from outer space running amok through our city, driving people insane."

"The effects of the Jenova virus on humans have not been tested," Hojo retorted, his voice taking on an irritated edge. "There are no documented trials. I would advise you not to jump to alarmist conclusions without a shred of evidence!" Lucrecia saw Gast quietly lay a hand on Hojo's elbow. The vice-chairman subsided into a wary silence.

"We are aware of the risks," Gast said calmly. "Shinra holds the most technologically advanced facilities in the world, though, and we are taking every precaution known to science to avoid a disaster of that magnitude."

Garkis scoffed quietly. "Science. Still…"

On her notes Lucrecia surreptitiously crossed out Garkis' name. Four left to convince, to sway to their side. The President and Garkis stood against the three scientists, so far. Four left… though one was Palmer, the President's yes-man. Three…

"Any other questions?" the President prodded. The cabinet stirred uneasily.

One of the middle-ranking Shinra raised a hand. His name was Adien Amon, and he had the enviable position of managing the incalculable wealth of Shinra Inc. The President acknowledged his bid for a question. "What do you think are the chances that the JENOVA Project might still produce a new Ancient?"

Lucrecia tried not to smile cynically. _At this rate, Amon, one hundred percent._ Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Hojo's carefully folded hands twitch slightly. "We have some promising possibilities on the horizon," Hojo answered.

"Care to elaborate?" Amon prodded, sounding truly curious. The Promised Land venture would, after all, reduce his job to a formality if it did succeed. If Shinra could tap into the immeasurable power source promised by Cetra lore, it would effectively control the entire world's electricity and power reserves at almost no cost. They would have no need of reactors in every major city, no side ventures to raise funds; such power would breed money at a staggering rate.

Lucrecia circled Amon's name.

Hojo let out a careful breath. "No, Treasurer, I would rather not elaborate at this point in time." Amon nodded, only a little disappointed. Gast looked at Hojo curiously, but did not speak up.

"Further questions," the President repeated. Garkis and Amon, their minds made up, did not question further; Palmer avoided the President's gaze and traced little circles on the tabletop with his fingernail. Lucrecia scanned the rest of the table: the unknowns were Theodore Lon, who had called this meeting as Shinra's public relations expert; and an older man with a harsh demeanor, who had been infamous in Shinra since the President's father's time. Chairman Charman, he was known, at least by more polite speakers. Charman Gades was the head of Weapons Development and Manufacturing, a relic from the days when Shinra ruled with an iron fist. These were the only ones between them and destruction; the vote, as she guessed, stood at only four to three in their favor. Lucrecia's confidence began to slide.

"No further questions?"

Lucrecia looked up at Charman Gades, who had a faintly sneering look on his face even now. He glanced at the President critically, as if judging the younger man's thoughts. Definitely a relic… and that, strangely enough, was probably why he would not speak. He knew he was a relic, a bad fit to the new president's policy of a benevolent exterior; he was harsh and cruel to the populace when it benefited him, and made no excuses for it. In the old days he would have said to forge ahead; Shinra stood to benefit from this, and if the public panicked, they were easily controlled with a few careful strikes and the constant silent menace of the Turks.

But these were not the old days, and the Weapons chairman knew his position was in danger. Eventually they would take his power, piece by piece, probably starting with the Turks, then the weapons sector entirely. For this reason, he was silent, and Lucrecia knew they had lost another vote. Ironic, that she should be so disappointed to lose the support of such an unpleasant man… She crossed out Gades' name as well.

One left: Theodore Lon, Shinra's public relations manager. He scarcely needed to speak, and they all knew it. His actions were as smooth, regulated, and predictable as well-oiled clockwork. His decision would fall in whatever direction made the Corporation look best.

Lucrecia crossed out his name, and dread began to curl cold fingers around her heart.

"No further questions," the President concluded, and his pronouncement was punctuated by a crisp rattle of keys from the transcriptionist's machine. "We will now take a vote: yes, if the JENOVA Project should be continued as planned, and its discoveries publicized; no, if it should be controlled as too dangerous. Davidson Sith, you will call each member of the council."

The transcriptionist, without slowing his machine-gun rhythm a bit, read the names one by one from a list, recording his own words as he said them.

"President Conrad S. Shinra the Third."

"No."

"Frederick Palmer, Space Program."

Palmer's eyes rolled nervously toward the President. "No."

"Charman Gades, Weapons Development and Manufacturing."

"No," replied the Weapons chairman, a bit sourly.

"Shay Garkis, Urban Development."

"No," Garkis declared.

"The Vice President's position is vacant." Lucrecia wondered what that may have meant to them, if there were a vice-president… chances weren't good that the one Conrad Shinra appointed would back their project, but it could have saved them…

Davidson Sith continued the roll call. "Adien Amon, Shinra Treasurer."

"Yes." Lucrecia closed her eyes at the sound of the word. Amon had less than honorable reasons for agreeing with them, but she still thanked him silently.

"Theodore Lon, Public Relations."

"No."

"Horace Jones, Research Department."

"Yes."

"Theophilus Gast, Research Department."

"Yes."

"Lucrecia Gainsborough, Research Department."

"Yes," she said, feeling her voice was no louder than a whisper.

"The vote is four yes, five no," the President declared, with a trace of satisfaction. "The JENOVA Project's current findings will not be pursued, and they will not be publicized outside the Corporation for any reason. However, if it is still believed that the Project holds promise on the horizon—" he glanced at Hojo— "it will be allowed to continue." Lucrecia sighed in relief before she could stop herself. If the Project could go on, all of her efforts were not in vain… "I hope this will serve as a warning to the Research Department in the future: your obligation, first and foremost, is to the Corporation. Not to lofty ideals, and not to science."

She saw Hojo look away, and Gast dropped his eyes to the notes on the table. They were expected to thank him, to be grateful that their life's work could continue, however maimed. They did not speak.

"This meeting is concluded," the President stated.

The council filed out of the room in silence. The three scientists crowded into the glass elevator together; Lucrecia and Gast faced the city outside, dimly lit behind the glass and a haze of smoke. Hojo stood behind them, his reflection wavering in the glass. Lucrecia leaned her forehead against the cool glass, bracing her fingers against it. Dr. Gast rested his hand on her shoulder comfortingly, and she felt a brief caress on her other arm that quickly fell away. They knew that out of all of them, the greatest loss was hers. Shinra had stifled the greatest achievement she'd ever made, her true triumph. There was still one more chance… but she knew that even if her child became Shinra's brightest star, the glory would not be entirely hers, and its price would be great.

Theophilus Gast's voice was quiet, gently reciting their epitaph as they plunged into the abyss. "_Alei, tsekine dhelar, sete a'masii maci-en._"

It was the final line of a lament, written by one of the last Cetra sages as he watched his proud race fall. _Thus, faced with madness, died all the world's glory._

  
  


_Notes: Thanks to Davey for help on the names of the Shinra._


	27. 3.6 - Ultimatum

3-6. Ultimatum

The door opened into white silence. Most of the mice were gone. The stainless steel shelves, once crowded with cages, now held only Mako tanks and endless stacks of notebooks. Notes, protocols, charts, theories—this was Hojo's JENOVA Project now. Its former barbarism had been sanitized and reinterpreted, waiting for the official results to be fabricated for the public.

Most of its barbarism, at least…

The scientist writing at the paper-strewn desk looked up as Lucrecia put away her key. She met his guardedly curious gaze with stony resentment. After a moment, he glanced away, opening another notebook. In black ink he noted the date: _8/26._

"It's been over three weeks since the last treatment."

"I know."

Silence. He looked up again, and with a trace of hesitation, waved toward the black chair. Lucrecia slowly advanced to it and took her place, avoiding his increasingly critical eyes.

_"One treatment, nine months of injections, in return for a lifetime of success, fame, money, power in the Corporation, whatever you desire…"_

_For nothing. For his greed, for his ambition._

_…for my ambition._

_All pointless._

Hojo stood and crossed the room to prepare the Mako/Jenova-cell drip. Lucrecia watched his back resentfully; it seemed outwardly to be the same as every other treatment, but to her it was hopeless, a futile denial of the real situation. Power and glory had been her promised reward for this hardship, but Shinra had snatched that away—

Her lungs seized up, and she gasped for air involuntarily. Her nerves flooded with panic. Suffocating—

Hojo turned. "What's wrong?" He came to her side, and wheeled the intravenous apparatus with him.

Lucrecia breathed deeply, fighting to dull the sparks of fear that crackled through her body. "Nothing."

"Are you sure?"

_What difference would it make?_ "I think so."

She made herself believe it, calmed the struggle for oxygen. His thin fingers attached a needle to the end of the long plastic tube and released a clamp at the bottom of the bag of solution. The opaque green fluid silently slipped closer. Lucrecia closed her eyes, tired of fighting the strange attacks, and let herself slip back into the deadened hopelessness that had swallowed her throughout the trip back to Nibelheim.

_Back home to Nibelheim,_ she'd thought, though she did not like the idea.

Hojo steadied her arm and slipped the needle into her faintly bruised skin once again. His light, careful touch on her skin was repellent. It was routine now, but that fact only made it seem more repellent.

"You seem troubled," Hojo remarked with measured detachment. Lucrecia opened her eyes. He had moved a little distance away, and watched her with his hands folded behind his back. She did not answer. "If something's bothering you, I'd rather you told me."

Some part of her longed to unburden herself, but to confess to the panic, the strange noises and voices, the crushing disappointment and betrayal that silenced her, would expose her guarded thoughts to him. She knew perfectly well by now that he fed on vulnerability, found some kind of smug pleasure in seeing others at their weakest. Hopeless or not, she would not give him that satisfaction.

Hojo sighed quietly. "Is it the conference, Lucrecia? Naturally you'd be upset by that… it was an embarrassing spectacle."

_For once I hope the Cetra are wrong. I hope there is a hell, just so you can go there._ She heard a faint laugh in her mind, under the Jenova-induced dizziness. It was strange, something broken and rough, but undoubtedly a laugh.

"…for you and Gast, at least," Hojo continued, his calm laced with a veiled amusement. "Shinra won't allow anything meaningful from your work to survive, after all of that. I've seen scientists' careers destroyed for less than this. The Corporation is not forgiving. You know as well as I do that in Midgar, if Shinra turns on you, you might as well be dead."

She knew he was right. Lucrecia had heard of not only scientists, but executives, inventors, Turk gunmen—anyone in the Corporation, really—falling from favor with sickening speed and unquestionable finality. Everyone at Shinra Inc. witnessed it at some time or another. It was a dire but effective means of securing loyalty. Though, she reflected, she'd never thought she would see the other side of the story…

"However." A trace of a smile haunted Hojo's face. "You and Gast have been muzzled, but the President knows that I will deliver what he wants."

_No, not again, not again…_

"My side of the Project continues, obviously." He glanced down at her swollen stomach with unmistakable satisfaction. Lucrecia suspected he would touch her, and a small flame of anger ignited in her chest. He did not touch her, though he inched a bit closer to her side. "They might forgive your involvement in Gast's failure if you redeem yourself… and the only redemption Shinra accepts is, ultimately, results. Whatever they've asked for. Whatever it takes."

His hands rested on the edge of the chair, a breath away from her right hand. Lucrecia entertained the passing impulse to stab him with the hypodermic. He went on quietly, "So you see, we are in quite an interesting situation, you and I. I need you to continue the Project for me." He thought for a moment. Lucrecia lay frozen as the Jenova-cell solution drained into her veins. "You need success, power, all those things you've dreamed about all this time. And now you need me to grant them to you. Only I can get you back in favor with Shinra." He reached out to her, laid a hand on her cheek. His voice was barely above a whisper. "_I'm your only hope._"

The silence seemed absolute. She could hear him breathing, and remembered a morning almost six months ago—the sunlight glancing over the roofs of the peaceful town, the dark sea below the cliffs. She remembered the anxious breathing of this man, waiting for her at the gates into Nibelheim, jumping on an opportunity brought about by her own distrust and fear. This man, this young, hothouse-bound prodigy with the soul of a hardened criminal. This man whom she'd followed all this time, and trusted, in a way—trusted to uphold his half of the agreement, to treat her as an equal partner and not as yet another laboratory mouse.

That morning at the gates, she'd pushed him into the dust. She realized now that she should have left him there…

No more.

"No."

Hojo's expression went blank. "What?"

"No…I will not. I will not go through with this." Lucrecia shoved his hand away. He fell back a few steps, shocked into silence. The suffocating sensation pressed on her body again as she spoke, but she fought it away. "I trusted you once and got nothing but disgrace. I don't believe you, Hojo. I don't believe Shinra will ever forgive me. They'll give you the credit and maybe let me stay on in some…some token position, but they'll never give me what you promised. I don't know if they would at the start. Maybe that was just another one of your lies."

"Lucrecia…" She rose to her feet, and he stepped back again. She pulled the needle from her arm and let it drop with a tiny metallic sound, leaking shimmering green liquid into the cracks in the stone floor.

Hojo dove toward the spilled Mako, his voice rising with a note of panic. "No…no, you can't do this…I…we have to finish it. The Project—"

She turned on him. "The Project is dead. This experiment of yours, this monstrosity, doesn't deserve to use its name. It has no rational scientific base. It's nothing but tinkering with living beings as if they were machines. Human beings, Hojo. Your own assistant. Your own _child!_" She was shaking with anger, all the thoughts she'd never given voice surfacing at once. However… looking down at his bent back in the too-large lab coat he wore, hearing his voice dither into undignified chaos, she felt no need to rail at him further. Enough had been said already. Almost. She spoke quietly, feeling a gathering tide of something which had eluded her for a very long time.

Power.

"You're a liar and a manipulator and a coward, Horace. Worse than that, you make a terrible scientist. You don't seem to care about humanity or truth or progress or anything else we stand for. What you've done is unethical and unforgivable, and I will not be part of it anymore."

He did not answer at first. He remained kneeling by the chair, his fists clenched around the Jenova-cell drip line. Finally, his voice laden with a tangle of barely contained anger and fear, he said, "You're not coming back for treatments."

"No."

"What are you going to do, then? I don't want…I don't want it to be killed."

"I don't know. But whatever I do, it is no concern of yours."

"It…won't be normal. We've come too far already."

"I know."

She turned toward the door. "Lucrecia…"

Lucrecia looked back at the man kneeling on the floor, the man whom she'd feared and respected and despised at the same time. His hands were streaked with the dull glow of spilled Mako; his eyes were blank, overwhelmed with fear; his short dark hair was starting to straggle over his forehead. This is what he'd come to—a brilliant scientist, a malicious liar, and ultimately…

_…broken. He's only twenty-seven and I've broken him…_

_…no…he's broken himself._

"Goodbye."

The click of the closing door echoed softly through the corridor.

  
  


Heat had shimmered from the flagstones in town as the air cooled, but a breeze from the west cooled Lucrecia's skin and ruffled her hair as she stood once more over the cliffs. The sun was beginning to set over the water, lighting the water with reflected orange fire.

She hadn't broken down this time, though her throat was tight with harnessed emotion. The chaotic desperation of the spring had burned itself out into an exhausted calm. Ambition had fired her for so long now—ever since the spring, since coming to Shinra, maybe even since childhood—that she could not quite replace it with another passion. At least not yet.

_So this is it, she thought with a small, ironic smile. I would expect the end of my career to be more spectacular, if I retired young. Not that I ever expected that…_

_Then again… did I expect **any** of this?_

_No… and that was the problem, before. Now… I don't know._

She no longer expected to guide the workings of mankind, to shine amid the might of Shinra by the power of her own achievement. Shinra's glory had turned out to be a cowardly front, in the end, and as for her own achievement…

The Project was over; that much she'd accepted long ago. And wondering whether it were her fault or not was a futile exercise, an answerless question. The Project was dead. She would simply have to leave it at that.

What else was there, then? If generations of flower dealers had instilled only one thing in her mind, it would be how to recover from a devastating loss. After a hard winter, after a chemical spill poisoned the air and the plants, after vandals and meddling by the Shinra and infiltration by desperate competitors, the Gainsborough flower sellers had somehow picked up what was left and moved on.

What was left?

Vincent, of course. Lucrecia folded her arms across her body, closing her eyes for a moment. Vincent was a constant. He'd decided, for whatever ungodly, misguided reason, to stay with her. Under the bright haze of her dreams of glory, Vincent's dedication had seemed threatening, a drain on her precious time and attention. Now…

_"Do you forgive me?"_

_"I forgive you. I love you; I can't help but forgive you."_

Even now, his simplistic insistence that he could somehow make everything go right—as if he could undo everything she and Hojo and all of Shinra had done by sheer willpower—seemed naïve at best, the words of a desperate man clinging to the one promise of safety in his life of senseless violence. But it was what he needed to believe, and maybe there was some truth in his beliefs…

_I want you to be happy,_ he'd said on that dazed April afternoon, shortly after she'd ripped out his heart. Vincent's faith in her was a force stronger than pain, stronger sometimes than reality itself. He would believe in her even though her ambition had crushed his only dream. He would believe in her even though she was no longer the woman he loved, in some way; she felt as if the spirited young student who had struggled up Mount Nibel almost a year ago had been someone else, someone she'd heard about in a rumor.

Yet Vincent would stay despite all of that. He would stay despite the fact that she'd committed one of the greatest betrayals possible… Lucrecia's hands moved over her heavy stomach as she gazed out to sea. That… of course there was that.

_Not "that"; him or her. It's not a thing. It's not one of Hojo's laboratory rats anymore._

It was harder to accept that, at first, that even though she'd turned her back on the shadow Project, its effects would still be borne out. The damage had been done; the child she carried was Jenova-infused, Mako-infused, and by the look of things would be everything Hojo wanted it to be, despite her refusal. Elmyra had known that after a moment: this child was not normal. And she suspected that its accelerated growth might be the least of her worries.

Even so… it existed, and that was another factor, another asset that remained. Vincent, and the child. _Her_ child. It was no longer the Project's child, something for which she was merely a vessel. Lucrecia had to be its mother now, in a sense more real than any genetic contribution. The three of them—Vincent and the baby and herself—were all that any of them had now, really. Shinra would dismiss her if Hojo told them that she'd backed out of his experiment. If she went, Vincent would follow. And now, she knew for the first time that she would be damned if she'd let Shinra take this child and use it as just another tool, just another moneymaking scheme.

The three of them, then, Lucrecia and Vincent and the nameless one who had almost come between them…no. He—or she—hadn't come between them. Lucrecia had, her blind desire for power had. No matter what ugly mission had resulted in this child's life, it was blameless in its own making. She would have to be strong, and forget Hojo as well as she could, and treat this child as if it were hers alone. It was hers, and that was all that truly mattered.

The three of them, Lucrecia and Vincent and the nameless one, then, were what she could depend on. What then? She would have to leave Midgar, if she left Shinra; Hojo had been right about that. Shinra did not treat ex-employees kindly, especially if they had been privy to some of their darkest secrets…

So they would leave; she would leave her home behind, both the Shinra-approved apartment on the Plate and her childhood home, along with her sister, and the garden that had been her earliest pride. She would escape, like a fugitive, to an anonymous life.

_How ironic, Vincent… I've found your dream after all._

Lucrecia breathed in the cool air one more time, looking out over the endless water. Then she turned again toward Nibelheim, and walked toward it with a sense of calm acceptance.

A figure in dark blue—coat and all—waited just outside the gates, leaning against a fencepost with his hands folded in front of him. He straightened as Lucrecia approached, his face an unreadable mix of worry and relief. Without a word she came up to him, looked into his eyes for a moment, then slipped her arms around him and held on tightly. She felt his hand stroke her hair as he embraced her. "I heard you'd left the village," he said quietly.

She nodded, soothed by the weight of his hand on the back of her head. "It's easier to think out here."

"It is. So what were you thinking about?" The question was threaded with a trace of hope.

Lucrecia smiled. Vincent's optimism was contagious, and the reassuring solidity of his presence, the smooth dark fabric under her cheek, calmed any lurking doubt. "I quit the Jenova treatments today."

He hugged her tightly, and his sigh of relief was unmistakable. "Finally… oh, Lucrecia, do you realize how long I've been waiting to hear that?"

"I think I know." She hesitated; the bulk of her stomach intervened between them, a chilling reminder of the situation. "You do know that it still won't be normal."

"If it's yours, I wouldn't care if it had three heads."

She stifled a squawk of laughter. "Heavens, I hope not."

"I'll protect both of you," Vincent remarked, almost absently, as if replying to some question in his mind. "No matter what happens, and no matter what that demon's experiment has done to you..."

_I was a demon too, Vincent… you don't understand that…_ "Do you forgive me?"

"For what?"

"For…everything, for starting this in the first place."

"Of course. I've said that before. And now… I don't care what either of us have done. You've come back to me; the rest doesn't matter."

"Come back? I never left, Vincent love."

"I meant metaphorically…" After a moment's thought, Vincent let her go and retreated a step. He took off the ring on his left hand, the same gold ring she'd refused on the first day of this madness. He held it out again. His voice was low and unguardedly sweet, as he was only with her. "Lucrecia, I love you. Do you love me?"

"Of course I do, but what…"

"Then I'll keep asking you until you say you'll marry me."

_I mean it, this time…I'm not going to lose him again. Metaphorically._ Lucrecia took the ring from him and slid it back onto his finger. "Someday I will, love. After the baby's born, when we can get away."

Vincent nodded. "I can wait."

  
  



	28. 3.7 - Drowning, We Rise

3-7. Drowning, We Rise

The days once again formed a slow progression of waiting, reading about the Cetra, and industriously avoiding Hojo. When she could manage it, Lucrecia avoided the Mansion's laboratories altogether. The presence of her sullen supervisor shivered across the back of her neck now and then when she visited the greenhouse, but he did not approach her directly.

Hojo was the least of her problems, though, it seemed. Even though she had stopped the Jenova treatments, their strange side effects persisted; they seemed worst when she worked, but their presence was frighteningly consistent. Slowly the unnerving phenomena increased: the dizziness grew worse, the pains became sharper, and the nightmares advanced, slipping their claws ever deeper into her subconscious.

She dreamed of drowning almost every night for the next month. Drowning… and worse. Sometimes she would wake in a terror so complete that it obliterated the dream that unleashed it, and ironically, she was thankful for that. In addition to the headaches and phantom voices, she didn't relish being haunted by nightmares in daylight.

As the autumn slowly chilled the mountains, another note arrived at the inn—by the normal local post, in a plain envelope. Lucrecia sat by the window overlooking the town square and read by the grayish-white light of the waning day.

_Dear Shinra Scientists,  
We hate to bother you, but we have no one else to ask. It's been over a year since my eldest son Shelan went to Midgar, and we haven't heard back from him yet. He never sent us a phone number there, and our letters were never answered. He can get wrapped up in school and work, but it's been too long, and we're very worried about him. If anyone knows how to reach him, please let us know as soon as possible. We live on East Lane, Nibelheim, number six._

_Thank you.  
Mrs. Koura Strife and Stratus Strife_

Lucrecia stared at the paper for a blank stretch of time. When it passed she wrote a helpless reply and, that night, fell asleep near tears. Shelan's mother's painful optimism further entrenched the uneasiness that shadowed her mind. As far as she knew, Shelan was living in Midgar, working on the Reactor Project. But his new supervisor had reported him absent at first, and he hadn't written to his own mother and little brother—the ones he'd run to see immediately when he arrived home for the start of the JENOVA Project.

Somehow, the thought that something could have gone wrong did not surprise her.

That night, she dreamed again that she was drowning in a closed tank, pounding against the walls feebly as unconsciousness darkened her mind… but this time, she was not alone.

  
  


They could no longer hike or climb over the Mansion walls, but Vincent and Lucrecia spent their free time together, reading or walking in the square or simply talking to each other, as they once did. Vincent would not speak of the Project, however, and Lucrecia refused to elaborate on the continuing influence of the Jenova treaments. They cautiously enjoyed their time in peace, as if it were an exotic glass ornament that would shatter if jostled.

One evening as the autumn started to freeze into an early winter, Lucrecia sat at the table in her room at the inn. Behind her Vincent sprawled on the bed in street clothes, reading Wutaian history.

"I want a Cetra name," she said aloud, pushing aside the last sheet of paper with its lists of names. "Even if it has a modern first name and a Cetra middle, or something, I want it to be named in Cetra."

Vincent looked up. "What do you have so far?"

She shook her head. "I don't know. That's the thing… they weren't named until after they were born. 'Souls name themselves,' they said. They went by first impressions, or temperament, usually."

He nodded.. "I remember reading that."

"So… I think I'm going to wait." She sighed, fighting the evil stink of doubt that rose from the treatments' hallucinations. She _would_ be clear-headed for this child's birth. She would move out of Nibelheim, or even swallow a dozen of those noxious tranquilizing medicines the shopkeepers stocked, if it would keep her lucid. After all of this hardship and everything she'd sacrificed, she was determined to finally meet its unwitting source and put a name to it.

_Strange way to think about your own offspring…_ Lucrecia piled up the lists of modern names and slid them away.

"Have you thought about the other naming question?" Vincent had closed his book and sat up, though he did not cross the room toward her.

The _other_ naming question… "I have… I think… I think it will be 'Gainsborough' for now, at least. It won't be long; when we move and…and everything—"

"When you marry me, finally," Vincent interjected with a small smile.

"Yes, then we'll both change… the baby probably won't even be old enough to know the difference by then. It's just…easier that way, with the paperwork and so on."

"I see." Vincent was quiet for a while; Lucrecia turned to watch him thoughtfully. Finally he spoke, looking toward the floor. "Speaking of paperwork… they'll ask for its parents. I…" He swallowed. "I would claim it, if that would make it easier for you. He never has to be connected with the baby at all." Vincent avoided the name of the other scientist, but she knew what he meant. Rightfully, she supposed, Hojo should be cited as the child's father… but she didn't want to brand her son or daughter with that name any more than Vincent did.

More importantly, Vincent was willing to accept it… Slowly, made awkward by the weight she carried, Lucrecia rose from her seat and crossed the room. She lowered herself to the edge of bed next to Vincent and took his hand, still, as always, adorned with the twice-returned engagement ring.

He'd said would accept this misbegotten soul as his own child, and she believed he would—and more. He would care for it as if it were, because it was hers… and maybe… even if it couldn't be the perfect peace he dreamed of, maybe it was as close as they could get.

"You know I don't care," he said quietly, something he'd said many times before. "In every way that matters to me, that's more my child than Hojo's. If I have anything to do with it, he'll barely even see it… I'll protect both of you. I promise."

Lucrecia closed her eyes and folded both of her hands over his hand, shaken by his unequivocal determination. She began to speak, but Vincent interrupted. "If you say you don't deserve this _one_ more time, I'll…"

She looked up into his eyes, lit with that odd spark of humor. The beginning of a smile slid across her face. "You'll what?"

"I'll… name it myself. Even if it's a girl: _Vincentia._"

Lucrecia chuckled quietly. "Not 'Valentine'?"

"No… because for the first few months it'd be 'Valentine Gainsborough', and that just sounds like a romance novelist."

She reached for the pillow he'd been leaning on and softly smacked the back of his head with it. Vincent caught her hand and pulled her closer to him, then kissed her gently. "I love you," he said, his lips brushing her cheek. "Even when you make no sense."

"Likewise."

He smiled. "I always make sense."

"No…you're too forgiving."

"You just don't understand it."

"Fair enough."

Vincent lay down again, leaning against the headboard, his arms crossed behind his head. A small smile still lingered on his face. At that moment he looked less like the Turk, the cold, mechanical, guilt-haunted assassin, than he ever had. Lucrecia smiled to herself. This…this was something worth struggling for. Whatever his reasons, Vincent would stay by her through all they'd been through and more… somehow, she believed that they could survive this, and anything else life threw at them.

Somehow, in its own way, that was an achievement in itself.

She reached for him, and he took her hand in his; her other hand still rested on the bulk of her stomach, where her—their—child grew.

"We're going to be all right," he said, half reassurance, half mantra.

Lucrecia nodded. "I hope so."

"We will. I'll make sure of it."

_You can't stop this sickness, Vincent… but I believe you._

For the first time in a long while, she looked forward to the new year with more hope than fear.

  
  


One morning—the hallucinations were lightest in midmorning, for some reason, even in the laboratory—Lucrecia stood in the hallway connecting the main lab to Dr. Gast's office, flashlight in hand, scanning the rows and rows of references and notebooks. Virology… genetics… protein chemistry… accounts of Jenova's discovery, written by the Shinra, of course… once, this was everything they'd thought they needed to know.

Near the end of the hall she found the right section. The flashlight's beam jittered over texts on toxicology, radiation… Mako. She reached for _Effects and Treatment of Makou (Mako) Toxicity._

"Ms. Gainsborough!"

Lucrecia startled, swinging the light toward the lab. Her pounding heart slowed to normal as she recognized, not the apparition she feared, but the much more reliable presence of Dr. Gast. She greeted him, touching her throat for a moment as her breath evened out. "Good morning."

Gast continued past her toward the office. "Still working? You're a trouper to the end, Ms. Gainsborough. Quite an honorable trait."

_Well, it's not as if I can take a vacation from this…_ "Thank you, sir." She switched the light off and caught up to the Research chairman as he opened the office door. Gast set his empty satchel on the desk and began to scan the shelves and stacks of books that lined the office, methodically picking out a few of them.

"I have some news that you might like to hear," he began. "Would you close the door, please?"

"Yes." She closed the heavy wooden door, muffling the faint whirring of the machinery in the laboratory. The office now occupied a circle of close, calming quiet. Lucrecia found a chair, clearing it of notebooks before gratefully taking a seat. She piled the books on the floor with the other texts as Gast continued to pack his satchel. This room did not smell of chemicals and disinfectant, as the others in the Mansion basement did—only dust and old paper. The shelves stored a wealth of research and lore, almost everything modern scholars knew about the Cetra. Many of the books had been written by Gast himself, thought by many to be the preeminent researcher of Cetra history and culture.

_If anyone could give me hope, it would be Dr. Gast… I have so much to ask him… but I can't tell him what I've done._

She felt a strong, unnerving stirring under her skin—stronger than it should have been, she knew, even at this late stage. Her unborn child probably possessed all the power of a two-year-old, and there were still two months to go.

_So much to ask… and so little time._

"Are you all right?" Gast paused, a heavy text in one hand.

"I'm fine… just… being pummeled by my own offspring. I don't think I'll ever get used to that."

He smiled. "It won't be much longer, at least. Do you have a definite due date yet?"

"The second week of January."

Gast nodded thoughtfully. "I see. Are you sure you aren't going to have twins? Or triplets, at this rate."

The thought made her only a little queasy nowadays, its horror muted by endless repetition. So many well-meaning villagers had asked her this over the last seven months that it had almost lost all meaning. "The town's doctor didn't think so; they only heard one heartbeat. But they don't have sonogram equipment out here, so we can't be sure."

_I don't think so either… somehow… I just know._

_—Of course you know; it hears you… if it knew the language it'd be answering by now.—_

Lucrecia froze for a moment at the intruding voice, but held her composure and focused on the book Dr. Gast held. Cetra tragedists, late period. How appropriate.

_Focus!_ "You said you had some news?…" She swallowed and hoped he would go with the change of subject.

"Ah, yes! Good news, at that." He closed the satchel, buckling the strap over it as Lucrecia tried not to be too eagerly impatient. Good news was too rare… "I've decided on my next project."

The student frowned slightly. "After the JENOVA Project? I haven't heard of that."

Gast smiled, a little sourly. "Shinra doesn't know about it yet—if they ever will." Lucrecia sat up a little straighter, though in some way she wasn't surprised. _What **is** it with this project and breaking with protocol?!_

"You're not leaving the company…?"

The elder scientist shrugged. "Perhaps. I intend to carry out my studies on my own power and my own time, but if Shinra doesn't like that…"

"No!" Lucrecia gasped, realizing she'd said it out loud, and swallowed hard. "No… but… they can't…" She shook her head, trying to recover her senses. If Shinra got a hold of Dr. Gast… as they did to the burnt-out Turks and traitorous spies… the world skewed, cast over with dread. If Shinra struck down Gast…

_—the powers of darkness will win.—_

_Exactly…_ She caught herself answering the voice in her head and almost let out a nervous laugh.

"They can't…" Lucrecia took a deep breath and looked up to the concerned face of her mentor. "Be careful… I don't want them to…" _To win._

"I know," Gast said calmly. His kind voice seemed to carry the last remnants of nobility in their cause. "I'm aware of the risk. I've bought a house in Icicle Inn, and I pray that the distance will be enough of a cover."

Icicle Inn… she recalled the name from what seemed like long ago. Dr. Gast had planned to move north for a long time. Now, it seemed, his someday had arrived. "You'll be studying Cetra?"

Gast nodded. "I've heard rumors of a few surviving Cetra in the area, near the Knowlespole. I hope to find them, and learn whatever they can teach me."

"I see… Good luck." After a moment she struggled to recall an incantation she'd heard, a warding prayer for those who had set out for distant lands. Her Cetra pronunciation was terrible; the translation would have to do. Her voice was quiet and sincere amid the stillness. "The land shall be easy under your feet, the sky calm above you. The heart of the world shall protect you from the forces of darkness, and you shall find, in the end…"

His voice joined hers in the last words: "…your home."

Theophilus Gast, preeminent Cetra scholar of their time, nominal leader of the JENOVA Project, smiled. "And the same to you, Ms. Gainsborough. To you and your sister, as well. I feel I've been blessed by meeting both of you."

_No… you've blessed us. I can't explain it…_

He chuckled, turning away toward the desk. "Listen to me! Excuse my sentimentality, Ms. Gainsborough. After all, I will see the two of you again someday. You're both welcome to my cabin if you ever have the time to travel to Icicle Inn—all of you, Mr. Valentine and Mr. Logan as well. It has been a pleasure working with all of you. And I want to see that baby of yours when it's born."

Lucrecia nodded, trying not to let the inexplicable tears of grief fall. "The pleasure is mine," she replied. "I'll come whenever we can."

Dr. Gast shouldered his satchel and waved, smiling a little. "Good day."

"Goodbye," Lucrecia murmured, and could not move as he left.

_Thus, faced with madness…_

Lucrecia stood at last and walked into the corridor, slipping a book on poisoning from the shelf. Its real meaning slid off the trepidatious hope that filled her heart.

_Thank you, Dr. Gast._

  
  


_Notes: This is not the end. Chapter 3-8 is being written now (Sept. 2001), and there is one more chapter after that (3-9) before the end. Thanks for reading!_


	29. 3.8 - The Crisis

_Note: If the formatting in this chapter is too confusing to follow, try the version on my page - link in profile. I had a little more control over that one. ;) Thanks. -S._

3-8. The Crisis

A single light glowed in a room on the second floor of the Nibelheim inn, lighting the walls with a yellow light that did not quite reach the room's darkened corners. On the table, open and carefully arranged side by side, lay two books: a stolen notebook in a scrawled hand, and _Effects and Treatment of Mako Toxicity._ A woman who had once been a young student bent over them, reading in parallel as the lamp cast shadows over her pale skin.

**Stage 1.** No visible effects. Hemotoxicity assays indicate trace amounts (0.00001% to 0.0009%) of Mako in the blood at all times, even after direct exposure has ceased. The majority of accidental Mako exposure, and exposure to Mako-containing vapor, falls within these bounds. The long-term and hereditary effects of Stage 1 Mako exposure have not yet been determined.

_Initially all of the specimens were exposed to only trace amounts of Mako, enough to facilitate J-cell absorption, but as the study continues, I am now beginning to explore the useful side of Mako exposure itself…_

**Stage 2.** Higher levels of hemotoxicity than Stage 1 (0.001% to 0.009%). Stage 2 toxicity is characterized by localized bioluminescence, known colloquially as "Mako eyes". The iris develops a form of bioluminescence, or natural light. Unlike the bioluminescence of certain insects and deep-sea fish, which are commonly yellow-green or orange, Mako-induced bioluminescence appears in virtually every shade. Normally, the light closely matches the victim's natural eye pigmentation, but shifts in color are also observed – most often to the familiar "Mako green".

_The higher doses of Mako are taking well. I haven't taken blood samples, but anyone trained in finding the signs could see the glow in her eyes. The strange thing is that I don't think she even notices it… nor does the Turk._

_It is encouraging. Beyond that, one could even call it… beautiful._

The exact mechanism of this phenomenon is unknown, because the enzymes involved seem to break down quickly after death and make autopsy studies difficult. In addition to these effects, an increase in muscular strength and stamina is reported in some cases.

**Stage 3.** Higher levels of hemotoxicity than Stage 3 (0.01 and higher) as well as bioluminescence. This stage is rarely reported in cases of accidental exposure to Mako, but it is reported in extreme cases of inentional and excessive exposure to Mako or crystallized Mako (Materia) internally. An increase in muscular strength is sometimes reported, but more often, muscle weakness is reported, in addition to spells of dizziness and fainting. The victim may suffer periods of confusion and disorientation, and occasionally visual and aural hallucinations.

_I believe that she has begun to hallucinate. She won't tell me much about it, which is not helpful in the least; both Mako exposure and J-cell exposure can induce hallucinations, and I don't know which has induced her symptoms. I have tried to interrogate my first specimen, with no success. He never did cooperate well, and now I believe that he is too far gone._

**Stage 4.** This stage has only very rarely been recorded in modern history; its symptoms are drawn from a few rare cases and from historical accounts from the Ancient civilization. No hemotoxicity levels are available, since no Stage 4 victims have been tested for blood-Mako levels. Bioluminescence is present, in addition to very frequent hallucinations. This stage is marked by profound muscle weakness and lack of coordination, catatonia, and sometimes coma.

_My only true concern at this point is the safety of my young creation… Changing the protocol has been a masterful move after all; if I had continued the direct-injection protocol carried out with the mice instead of the new intravenous protocol, the health of the fetus might be in much greater danger._

Stage 4 toxicity is reported only in cases of prolonged immersion in pure Mako; it has been reported historically in Ancients who had fallen or jumped into active Mako wells, and in modern times after catastrophic accidents with Mako reactors or with victims who had fallen into exposed Mako pools, such as the Mako pool at Mount Nibel. There is no effective treatment for extreme Mako poisoning, and the survival rate for these victims is low.

_Of course, this protocol does pose a much greater risk to the carrier—but that is a lesser concern. As long as she lives long enough to deliver, the experiment is a success._

Lucrecia closed the books one after another. When she stood, her head swam with a dizziness not entirely brought on by the treatments. She clasped the books against her chest protectively and stared toward the tabletop, her eyes unfocused. She refused to look up into the mirror, as if it could unmake what she was sure to see…

Things had gone wrong. More precisely, things had been _made_ wrong.

She looked up; she had to. The pale face in the mirror looked back at her, and its coldly terrified eyes glowed with a soft yellow-amber light…

_…one could even call it beautiful…_

Under the plan she'd agreed upon, this would not have happened. Only her child would be exposed to so much Mako and Jenova cells. But Hojo had changed his mind and filtered the deadly serum through her blood, to lessen the risk to his precious experiment. In short, the protocol had been falsified. More lies. One of a thousand, it seemed. The thought had little power to shock her anymore.

Outside the shuttered window, the mountains were frozen in the midst of a dead Nibelheim winter. And for the first time, it seemed clear that she would not see the spring.

  
  


_The voices came with the sickness, faintly at first, but as more and more of our people fell ill, the voices grew louder… some claimed that they heard the voices of the dead in Lifestream, others claimed that they could hear the thoughts of living things. The intrusion of these thoughts drove some of the sick ones mad._

_Fifty-six so far have died in the capital this month. No one knows how many have been lost throughout the world. Though I know they have returned to the Planet, I cannot help but feel that we have been wronged. Though not evil in themselves, their deaths were undignified and unnecessary. They still had things to accomplish in this life…_

_I wait now in solitude, writing and watching. It is the scholar's duty in our world to watch and to remember what has been, so that others may be told._

_May Lifestream let me stay away a little longer, for the story is not over yet._

"Lucrecia."

She startled, looking up from the Cetra history for the first time in hours. Vincent stood in the doorway in civilian clothes. Lucrecia stared at him blankly, struggling to pull her mind back to the present.

"Why aren't you asleep? I saw a light on, and…" Vincent trailed off helplessly; he'd seen the bedside lamp, the books, the covers wrapped protectively around her, the fading glassy look in her eyes. The question was pointless. He closed the door and sat beside her on the bed. "Can I stay?"

Lucrecia nodded, cleared her throat. He gently loosened the book from her grasp and closed it. She did not stop him; she'd read it so many times, anyway…

The Turk lay back against the pillows, looking up at her calmly. "You haven't been out in a long time. I've worried about you."

She shrugged, still not completely free of the dazed detachment. "It's all right… I have to think."

"About what… well, what exactly?"

Lucrecia did not answer at first. Telling him the whole truth would stun him into his usual defenses: he'd deny it, vow to protect her, and nothing would be solved at all. What could be said now?

_Vincent, do you think you could take care of my child? If you had to, not that you will have to…_

_Vincent, something's gone wrong._

If there were words she could give him, they had not yet come to her. Before she could console him, she first had to swim through this shock, to grasp the poisoned truth herself.

"Do you think it's been worth it?" she said at last.

Vincent frowned for a moment, puzzled. "Has what been worth it?"

"All of this. Everything since you came to Nibelheim."

"Yes," he answered at once, then thought for a minute, his arms crossed behind his head. He looked up into her eyes again as she sat beside him, one moment among many like it.

"Yes, it has," Vincent repeated. "I've tried before, but I don't know if I could explain to you what you've done for me. I'd go through all of this pain and more, for everything you've done."

Lucrecia's eyes darted away from his sincere face. Her first impulse was guilt, as usual, but as the first sour pang wore off, a new thought replaced it.

If this really was as serious as she feared… what was the use of guilt?

She looked down to the waiting gaze of the young Turk, the philosophical killer who loved her beyond all logic. "I love you, Vincent. Never forget that."

"Of course."

It went without saying, finally. She knew he would never forget, and her habitual doubt seemed pointless now as well. No matter what happened to Lucrecia, some image of her, some construct, some idea built in her name, would be burned into Vincent's soul for as long as he lived. It was mostly his doing, but that was also unimportant. Vincent Valentine would carry her forever, until, someday—such a pointless word—they would be reunited beyond the world.

She remembered seeing him across the room in that humble Nibelheim tavern, her cheeks blushing like a schoolgirl's. They'd faced his haunted conscience and her wavering morality, climbed mountains, risked death, studied history, learned to dance. Two years ago, he had still been an unusually refined Turk with little interest in life, and she had been a promising graduate student with ambitions that had not yet consumed her.

So much time had passed, but it didn't seem like enough time now…

Vincent sat up on one elbow, slipped one hand up to the back of her neck, and gently bent her down. When his lips touched hers, Lucrecia closed her eyes to keep him from seeing the first traces of tears.

Whatever happened, Vincent would always love her. Nothing could break that, nor could it undo everything about them that their love had altered. Even if she died, their child would remain, and so would this new Vincent, who knew now that his life was not hopeless. And even then, nothing could take away what they had already done and said, or the bond that they had made despite all betrayals and hardship.

Vincent loved her unquestioningly; Lucrecia loved him, hoping despite her doubts that all he believed was true. That would always remain. Finally, Lucrecia felt a calmness in her heart—something approaching peace.

Maybe it had been enough time, after all.

  
  


Lucrecia Meresia Gainsborough, just past the age of twenty-four, eight months pregnant and carrying two books tightly against her body, walked down the underground corridor toward the JENOVA Project laboratory.

_The voices came with the sickness, faintly at first…_

_I believe that she has begun to hallucinate._

_—Are you there?—_

_I'm here… please don't say anything. It's bad enough as it is._

The door swung open. The main laboratory was quiet; it was used infrequently these days. Lucrecia replaced the books on their proper shelves, fighting back the growing dizziness. The strange voice in her mind was quiet—at least her insanity listened to reason. She smirked in spite of herself at that thought.

_Some claimed that they heard the voices of the dead in Lifestream…_

Recalling the briefing from their first day in Nibelheim, she found the white metal box under the lab bench in Hojo's work space—his official space, at least…

_Others claimed that they could hear the thoughts of living things._

_—What's 'bad enough as it is?'—_

_This voice… and I'm dizzy. And tired…_

_—Are you sick? Or is it…—_

_That's what I'm here to find out._

The corners of the box clinked on the countertop. Lucrecia flipped open the latches and lifted out a small plastic-wrapped kit: syringes, test tubes, reagents.

_There is no effective treatment for extreme Mako poisoning._

It was easy to draw blood now; her veins were murkily visible under the almost translucent skin of her arms. One milliliter in each of two test tubes, five drops of the test fluid. Shake, close, wait five minutes. She set a lab timer to mark the time, threw the needle away in a bin bound for the incinerator, sat with her head resting on her arms, and waited. The laboratory was quiet as the reagents bound to the proteins in her blood, tracing the patterns of poisoning.

_—So he got you, too?—_

_Hojo?_

_—Right… I thought I was the only one.—_

_The only what?_

_—Test subject.—_

One minute.

_No… I was… not exactly a test. I was part of the experiment._

A bitter laugh scratched through her mind. _—Lucky you; I'm just a guinea pig.—_

Lucrecia blinked. _Literally?_ Never mind that all of this was insane, that she was conversing with a voice in her head as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Nothing followed the same logic that it once did.

_—Funny. No, not literally. He uses mice, usually, I think. Figurative guinea pig. His first human trial.—_

Lucrecia sat up, reeling. _Human trials? Since when does he do human trials?_

Two minutes.

_I have tried to interrogate my first specimen, with no success._

_Now I believe that he is too far gone…_

_—Since me, I guess.—_

_When were you … treated?_

_—When **was** I treated? Now… for a while now.—_

Lucrecia stood, faltered, gripped the edge of the counter. "You're _alive?_" she asked out loud.

Three minutes.

_—Of course, I'm talking to you, aren't I?—_ The laugh came again, much quieter, and Lucrecia closed her eyes, struggling to grasp what was happening.

_Some claimed that they could hear the thoughts of living things._

_Where are you?_

_—I'm not sure. In his laboratory, I think. Last place I saw was the Shinra lab in Nibelheim.—_

Lucrecia's stomach knotted in pure revulsion and fear. _So you're human, Hojo took you and …experimented on you, and now you're in the Shinra lab? In the Mansion, the main lab?_

_—Right.—_

Four minutes.

_That's where I am._

_**—What?—**_

_I'm here… Where…_ Lucrecia turned slowly, shaking with dread, looking for any spot big enough to hide a human.

Between the Chemistry bench and the wall she saw them, standing against the wall, supposedly unused. Hojo's two largest specimen tanks, shielded and sealed, which… if one's imagination were warped enough… were large enough to hold a human being.

Lucrecia took a step toward them, and a tiny alarm started to beep. She startled and spun around. The lab timer she'd set was going off: five minutes. She picked up the test tubes and compared them to a chart in the test kit:

**High level Jenova virus exposure. Seek medical attention immediately.  
Mako blood content ~0.01%. Seek medical attention immediately.**

_Of course…_

_—What is it?—_

_Jenova._

The original procedure—what'd she'd been promised at first—had called for no more than fifty percent Mako, and a trace amount of Jenova cells. For this amount to remain in her blood weeks later, it had to have been undiluted Mako by the end… and probably ten times the promised dosage of Jenova cells.

Lucrecia looked up to the steel shielding of the specimen tanks. Her own reflection was a smeared blur of white and washed-out pastels with dully glowing eyes.

_I know where you are now._ She stepped toward the tanks.

_—Then help me… it's too late for us, we're going to die from the virus anyway, but I have to get out of here… please…—_

Seven steps to the tanks. The voice pleaded desperately, almost to itself.

_—It's been so long since I saw anyone… even Hojo doesn't come anymore… just sets up these damn needles to run sugar into my blood, probably more Mako too… I can't breathe… please help me…—_

Lucrecia's mind flooded with the panicked thoughts of the trapped test subject; her eyes glazed over, and she shook it off to read the instrument panel on the front of the tank.

_—I've been so alone… I'm not like this, but gods, there's a limit to what a man can take… I have to get out of here…—_

Simple enough: Open. She pushed a button, and the shielding slid away from the front of the tank…

Lucrecia had dreamed of drowning, but they were another's dreams.

The tank was painfully bright with the green glow of liquid Mako. Wires and tubes snaked through the glowing fluid, enveloping a spasm-racked human form, piercing it in countless places. An oxygen mask covered the bottom half of the man's face, and his head was thrown back; she could not see his eyes. Her terrified gaze slid down his rigid arms to his hands, which were spread and locked as if clawing…

…no… they _were_ claws…

The subject's head snapped up, his blond hair flowing behind him in the green glare. Pure terror flooded his glowing eyes, and his malformed hands clawed at the oxygen mask, ripping it off in a torrent of bubbles.

For a fraction of a second, Lucrecia thought that this was no more than another hallucination. But the man in the tank put his hand against the glass, echoing her utter shock in his wire-punctured face, and her doubt fled along with the last vestiges of control.

_Shelan!_

_—Lucrecia!—_

Lucrecia could not tell if the scream that ripped through her were physical or mental or both. She dropped into unconsciousness with the sudden finality of a slamming door, crumpling to the floor before the tank as Shelan Strife pounded uselessly on the glass walls of his prison.

  



	30. 3.9 - Heaven's Silver

3-9. Heaven's Silver

The ceiling seemed distant, out of focus—but that was because they'd taken her glasses. Or was it really far away? Sometimes she saw a domed ceiling, sometimes it spiraled above her into an inverted well of shadows. Sometimes she woke with her eyes burning and saw the timbered plaster of the Nibelheim inn. It all depended on what happened to be stampeding through her mind at the moment…

When the timbered ceiling appeared, oftentimes the village doctor would bend over her and give her something to drink. She swallowed it without question, though it tasted bitter and syrupy; it would send her back into sleep, away from the dull pains that racked her body, and at the moment that was all she cared to know. Usually Vincent would be there, sitting by her bedside, sometimes kneeling by her bed with her fevered hand folded in his. Sometimes he would speak, though his words sank, uncomprehended, into the rising darkness of sleep.

And between these interludes raged a thousand years of confusion and pain.

She saw the streets of the ancient capital emptying, the few that remained running furtively from one building to the next, avoiding the neighbors with whom they'd once spoken. She saw the noble philosophers and dreamers dying in shrieking fits. She saw the few left writing as fast as they could in their records, half camera, half music-box, in a language none would comprehend only fifty years after their deaths. They wrote without purpose, filled with dread and hope…

She saw glowing metal, a sealed shell full of light and energy, far, far too much energy. Her body caught aflame with it, in her dreams, every nerve and cell flooded to bursting with the torrent of green fire that ran through her, head to toe, as if she were nothing but a conduit between earth and hell. She tried to scream, but the sound only echoed back into her own ears; no one could hear her now, or ever again. And around her, muted by the sealed metal egg that encased her, hummed a throbbing pulse of machinery that was strangely familiar…

And Lucrecia startled awake time after time with fear flooding her veins, shouting for everyone to run, dreaming that Nibelheim was in flames…

The dreams rose and subsided, interspersed with long stretches of featureless darkness. It was for those that her frayed soul prayed, for only those gave her rest both from the pain of waking and from the fear of dreaming. She wished only to sleep, without dreams, forever… but invariably the darkness would wear away, and she would wake to the small timbered-ceilinged room of the Nibelheim inn, sheets damp with terrified sweat, body aching, teeth chattering, wishing to return to nothingness again.

Though in those brief moments of daylight and lamplight, she did see Vincent—in person, not in the disturbing flashes of a dream-Vincent, torn by his own nightmares. Vincent, patient as always, but wearing a bit himself, over time. One day she asked him, after he had fetched her enough water to loosen her tongue.

"Vincent," she said, reassuring himself of his existence, more than anything.

Vincent bent closer to her and kissed her warm cheek. "What is it?"

"How long have I… been here?"

Vincent narrowed his eyes slightly. "Nibelheim?"

"This room. Here."

Oh. Three weeks, love."

"Three weeks…" Sighing, she looked down to the enormous bulge in the covers of the bed—she seemed grotesquely huge now, and it was probably a small comfort to know that she didn't have to walk under that weight. "When is the baby due?"

"Soon," Vincent answered quietly. "A week or two."

"Soon…" she echoed, "soon, soon, soon…" And she slid back into sleep again, and dreamed frantic dreams that the child would never be born, that it would grow larger and larger until it burst her apart and clawed its way out, fully grown. She woke whimpering in fear, and clung to Vincent's hand until they brought her another bitter tranquilizing draught.

For another fifteen days she swam through nightmares, burning with an unholy fire, ripped to pieces as the full force of Lifestream was forced through her body, weeping with the sorrow of a fallen realm.

For another fifteen days the child grew, feeding on the last strength of her battered body.

And then it began.

At first she thought it was another nightmare, that the seizing pains would be stilled by yet another drink of medicine, once she plunged into daylight. But soon the room wavered into view before her eyes, and the pain continued. She clutched the bedcovers and closed her eyes, waiting for it to pass, her throat too tense to scream. Vincent leaped to his feet. "Lucrecia! Are you all right?"

She managed to jerk her head sideways—_no_—and Vincent ran to the telephone. He dialed with shaking hands, but his voice was short and almost confident as he summoned the village doctor. The man arrived a few minutes later, as the spasm subsided. She was breathing easily again as he listened to her heart with a stethoscope and carefully prodded her abdomen. "It seems to have dropped into position. It won't be long now," he stated, and Lucrecia heard a trace of nervousness in his voice. Her mind was clearing now, into a state of lucidity she'd felt only rarely since the month-long vigil began. The doctor reached into his bag for another vial of tranquilizer, but Lucrecia waved it away.

"No… I don't want to miss it."

"Miss Gainsborough, it's perfectly safe, I assure you. It's simply to dull the pain…"

_Do you have ether? Chloroform? Use it, I don't want to be there…_

_It's not that painful a procedure, my dear, my dear…_

"No. I'm sure. I…I have to be here."

"Excuse me?"

"I— never mind…"

And it began again.

The pain clamped down again, and for a few terrified minutes she wondered feverishly if her nightmare were coming true, if this…thing inside her would rip her apart after all… but then, finally, it faded again. She breathed heavily and waited. She tried to smile encouragingly at Vincent, who hovered, white-faced with fear, between her bed and the door as if he weren't sure whether he should stay or go. He returned her smile faintly and slowly came to sit by her bedside, taking her outstretched hand. He held on for the duration, never once leaving her side as the spasms came and left, came and left. For the next eighteen hours he stayed, holding up the water glass so she could drink, wiping her face with cool cloths, murmuring encouraging words, as the village doctor took catnaps and paced nervously, twisting the tubes of his stethoscope in his hands.

The night wore on and morning came again, eighteen hours after the first pain had come, and though her body was thoroughly exhausted—in the increasingly brief respites she found herself falling asleep almost instantly, only to wake in pain again—Lucrecia held on determinedly. Now, finally, all of this would be over. Now, she would see the cause of all of this. Now, the final product and redemption of the JENOVA Project would be born. Soon now, so soon, and all she had to do was persevere.

Eighteen hours of vigil, with only three people: herself and Vincent and the doctor. Dr. Gast had come once, whispering what she understood to be a Cetra blessing, but when she emerged from the next bout of pain, he was gone. Hojo had not appeared. A small part of her was almost sorry for that; it would have felt good to strangle someone in the throes of the contractions…

Not long after dawn, the pain became almost continuous. The doctor left his pacing and called a midwife, though she barely noticed it; it was all she could do to clench Vincent's hand and avoid blacking out with exhaustion. The woman arrived immediately, her arms loaded with clean cloths, barking orders. She thanked Vincent for staying with Lucrecia, though both of them exchanged a guilty look; neither was about to correct her assumption that he was the baby's father. Though at this moment, such matters seemed less important than ever… Soothed somewhat by the midwife's confidence, Lucrecia did her best to keep breathing and bore down when instructed, though she could no longer keep down the cries that tore from her throat.

Two more hours of hell. Vincent remained grimly silent. The doctor hovered increasingly closer, muttering about surgery, but the midwife brushed him off. She could tell, she said; this mother was strong, she could make it on her own.

_This mother…_ Lucrecia thought, but the thought was almost lost in the red haze of pain.

Two more hours, and Lucrecia thought, distracting herself from the unbearable ordeal, that it was somehow better than the nightmares, at least. This pain was real; it had a purpose…

And then, finally, the midwife announced that the baby was coming, and before the thought could finish forming in Lucrecia's mind that she wasn't ready—not quite yet, she wasn't ready to see it, not like this, it was too much—it was over.

For a few dazed minutes she wondered whether it were dead; it made no sound, and the doctor and the midwife rushed around with tasks she couldn't see clearly. She was about to ask Vincent to find her glasses when the midwife came over to her with a large, blanket-wrapped parcel…

Lucrecia stared, dumbstruck. She'd half expected some sort of monster, but this child, paradoxically, was perfect. Its hands were perfectly formed, its skin was pale but whole and unmarked, and its face… was…

_Beautiful… so strange… but beautiful…_ she thought, but could not speak. Its face was unearthly, for a newborn child, the kind of entrancing alienness that made her think of angels and Ancients… And yet, the mark of the Project was evident: the child looked back at her with clear eyes that glowed Mako-green, and the wisps of hair on its head were undoubtedly a strange shade of silver.

_Silver… so beautiful, like an angel's. Silver… 'silver' in Cetra is 'rossa'… I'll name it that if it's a girl… Angel of silver, no, heaven's silver… Sephirossa…_

She frowned slightly, blushing a little as she asked the midwife, "I hate to ask this, but boy or girl?"

"It's a boy," the midwife replied. "Sorry, I must've forgotten in all the… Yes, a healthy boy."

"Hm." She looked back at the child, this being who had been sleeping all this time, while she agonized and wondered and equivocated, waiting for her to be ready for its arrival.

_It hears you; if it knew the language it'd be answering by now…_

Slowly Lucrecia lifted her free hand and reached out toward the unearthly infant. He watched her, his Mako-green eyes carefully focusing on her own Mako-amber eyes, as she reached out across that small space between them and brushed his smooth cheek with her fingers. For a moment she felt a circuit form between them, herself and the baby and Vincent, and she could have sworn that she saw the infant smile, faintly. He reached out toward her with one tiny hand…

"What are you going to name him, Miss Gainsborough?" the midwife broke in.

"Hmm? Oh… Sephirossa… no… Sephiroth."

"Sephiroth?" Vincent asked quietly.

"'Heaven's silver,'" she murmured, not taking her eyes off the bright green gaze of the baby… Sephiroth, her son.

Their hands touched for just a moment, the warm, faintly moist hand of the newborn and the trembling hand of the new mother. Then the midwife holding him hastily turned away, muttering apologies about warmth, the mother's strength, how they should both get some sleep.

Sleep came soon enough, claiming her before they'd even taken Sephiroth from the room, and in her mind she saw only her son's green eyes…

  
  


She woke in darkness. Vincent slept next to her, his arm curled around her protectively. For a few heartbeats she wondered whether it were a dream, whether she'd first dreamt of the Ancients only last night, and find the door lock still broken… but she felt a residual dull pain and the familiar dizziness and knew that it was all true.

Vincent stirred and opened his eyes. "Are you all right?" he asked softly.

Lucrecia nodded. "As well as could be expected. How is Sephiroth?"

"Sleeping, I think. They're keeping him in my room so that you aren't disturbed. The midwife is watching over him for now."

"I see." She sighed, feeling the strange lightness in her body despite the ache—it had been a long time since she'd felt at home in her own skin. Now… it had all changed, and there was nothing more to do but carry on.

And yet…

"Vincent?"

"Yes, love."

She fought to keep her voice calm. "Remember what we said… no matter what happens to me, try to get Sephiroth away from here. Any way you can… just get him away from Shinra."

"Nothing will happen to you, Lucrecia," he said hurriedly.

"It doesn't matter. Just take care of him… and if you can't, then watch over him. Make sure…" Her eyes were filling with tears, and she hoped that Vincent could not see it. "Make sure they treat him well, and tell him… tell him I love him."

"You can tell him yourself…"

"Promise me, Vincent."

"I will." He was holding on to her tightly now, shaking a little himself. "You'll be all right. As soon as you've recovered, we'll leave. We'll get away from Shinra and all of this…"

She let him talk, because she knew that he probably understood despite his litany of hopes. It was his way of pushing away the fear, but he knew, as well as she did, that she would not last much longer.

"I love you, Vincent. I have to tell you that again."

"I know." He kissed her lips carefully; his breath trembled. "I love you more than anything I've ever known. You're all I have in the world."

"You have Sephy now," she reminded him.

"Yes…the two of you," he replied, as if his mind could not grasp the thought of her leaving him. "I'll take both of you away, where we can all be safe…"

"Vincent."

"Yes?"

"It doesn't matter now."

  
  


She woke in the growing light of morning. Vincent was gone, and a note lay on the chair next to her bed. Lucrecia picked it up and read it, squinting a bit, and fumbling for her glasses on the end-table with her other hand.

_Lucrecia,  
Went to change and visit Sephiroth. Will be back soon. I love you.  
Vincent_

She smiled to herself and set the note back on the chair. Having found her glasses, she slipped them on and tentatively sat up on the edge of the bed. She felt drained but optimistic, and above all, calm. She could visit her child on her own, surely… it was only down the hall. It sounded promising; she yearned to move under her own power again, although the continuing dizziness troubled her, and she would have to move slowly.

Keeping one hand on the bed, she stood and slowly walked to the wardrobe, picking out some of her old clothes—the ones she hadn't worn in months, not since her body had swollen far out of proportion. Now they fit again; she dressed carefully, pausing now and then to sit down on the polished wooden floor and take a few deep breaths. She was looking forward to seeing Sephiroth and Vincent; they'd make a strange picture, the three of them, but she wanted to see the two of them again before…

Time to get up again. She gritted her teeth and struggled to her feet, her limbs shaking with the effort. All the strength in her body seemed to have drained away, and the spinning in her head was interminable. She took two steps before falling, striking her knees on the floor, and she clutched them in pain for a moment. Maybe it was best to get some help after all… Once more she fought to regain her feet, clutching the bedpost for support, and shuffled toward the telephone. Undignified or not, at least she could see her son that way.

She made it only halfway before falling again, and this time she did not have the strength to hold herself up; she sprawled on the floor, her cheek against the wood, and for the first time she started to seriously wonder whether she would see her son again. Her head was beginning to hurt, a sharp pain that stabbed in from all directions, and she could barely see.

_You knew this would happen. It had to happen eventually…_

_Yes… I just wish I could see him again. Just once. I wish I could hold him…_

_Vincent, tell him I love him. Tell him I loved him… and run, both of you, from Hojo and all of this. I love you both…_

_Maybe someday we'll meet in Lifestream, or the next life… I'll remember you, Vincent. I could never forget you…_

_Sephiroth, my son, I'm sorry… I love you. That's all that matters now._

_Please forgive me…_

  



	31. Epilogue - The Birth of God

Epilogue. _The Birth of God_

He remembered Vincent Valentine.

In any case, he remembered a dark-haired man in a suit, taller than Hojo and thinner than Dr. Gast, with a quiet, warm voice. He remembered a man telling him about his mother—a beautiful lady, the man had said, and brilliant as well. He remembered asking the man where his mother was. He remembered wanting to know her, wanting to know what it was like to have a mother. The man said she'd gone away.

"When?"

"When you were a baby," he said.

"Did she see me? Did she love me?"

"She saw you, but not for very long. They didn't let her. But she loved you. I know that."

"How do you know?"

"She told me."

"Did you know my mother?"

"Yes, I knew her. I loved her," he said. "I still love her."

"Where is she?"

"I don't know."

"Are you my father?"

He was quiet, for a time. "No." The man had run his hand over the boy's hair, that freakish white hair he would come to hate in adolescence. No one else he'd met had hair like that. The man's voice was very soft, suddenly. He sounded very sad. "No, Sephy, I don't think I am your father."

"Why not? You loved my mother, why aren't you? Why didn't you marry her?" he demanded, as hot tears blinded him. Hojo had hit him for crying, but this man never did. Neither did Dr. Gast, but he didn't come to visit very often anymore.

"I asked her. She said no."

"Why would she do that?"

"You'll understand when you're older."

He'd been a very precocious child. He couldn't have been more than three years old. But he wanted to know about his mother, and he knew that the man wasn't telling him everything. He couldn't stand to be denied something he wanted… "No! Tell me now! Tell me why!"

"I don't know why."

"Why don't you know? If you loved her and she loved me, why aren't you my father?" He wept then, furiously. How dare this man take away from him the only chance he had to be linked to another human being, the only chance he had to belong.

"I don't know," the man said again.

"Why don't you know? You won't tell me! Go away, I hate you! I'm gonna tell Hojo you were here! You're not supposed to talk to me, any of you!" He didn't want the man to go, not forever. But he was too hurt to let it go unavenged.

The next day he told Hojo that the man had visited him.

The man disappeared for a very long time, and with him disappeared the hope of finding his mother.

He didn't see the man again, or his mother either, for a very long time.

But he was never able to forget. He was never able to forgive the man for leaving him, for taking away the only memory of his mother. For leaving him in that closed-up mansion. For leaving him to be what he was: a mutant. A test case. A freak of nature.

Not nature. Science.

A freak of science—no kin, no country, no proper name.

One name only. An un-human name, or so he thought: un-prosaic, family-less, meaningless.

_Sephiroth._

  
  
  
  


_the end._

_Sarah the Boring_ sarahtheboring@aol.com  
_Early December 1999 - November 11, 2001_

_This story is dedicated to Loo, Dara, Jessi, David, Morgaine, and the dozens of other people who have supported the story since its infancy. Thank you all. You have been an inspiration._

  



	32. Author's Notes

**Author's Notes**

First off, just an opinion: Never fall for excuses. Saying "well, this is my first fanfic…" as an excuse for a bad piece of work is hereby proven wrong: "Devotion" was my first serious fanfic. Prior to this I'd only written comedy screenplays as far as fanfiction went. Just a thought. ;)

I've always wondered, when watching or reading Vincent's flashback, "What the HELL was Lucrecia thinking?!" I've read a few fics that have tried to explain what in the heck was going on, and while they were great otherwise, they never had the ring of truth for me about Lucrecia's reasoning. So I thought I'd take a guess at it. And as it went on it gained momentum and took on a life of its own, as these things often do.

Things that are made up / changed / questionable in the story, and assorted notes and trivia and other such things:

1. Hojo's given name is never said to be ANYTHING other than "Hojo". Why did I make it up? Because "Hojo" is a pretty weird name, compared to most of the others in the game. I figured there had to be SOME explanation. I later heard that the name is real, its etymological meaning tracing back to "power" in Japanese. This fits, in an ironic way; power is what Hojo seeks, although by most counts he doesn't have much of it.

2. Lucrecia is never said to be related to anyone (except Sephiroth, of course.) First off, I couldn't think of a last name for Lucrecia. I batted around the idea of naming her the catchy-sounding "Lucrecia Loire", setting up a kind of FF7/FF8 genealogy connection, but decided that would be too complicated. So I debated a little bit-names, weird genealogy connections. I also thought of the odd connection: Gast was the father of Aeris and a kind of accomplice in the creation of Sephiroth. And I'd heard of the fake conspiracy theory linking Sephiroth and Aeris as brother and sister, though at the time I didn't realize it was fake. So…I thought… perhaps Lucrecia was related to Aeris—or to her adopted mother, Elmyra. I also needed a kind of confessor for Lucrecia, and a little bit of background into her competitiveness, so the spirited young Elmyra came about. The rest is in the story.

3. There was never said to be a fourth scientist, or a second or third Turk, in Nibelheim during the JENOVA Project. Shelan's character started off as a vague idea, a small group of Lucrecia's fellow students, also working on the Project. This was where we would get the kind of ground-level view of Hojo and the Shinra Research system. Eventually, for the sake of simplicity and plot (it was a super-secret project, after all), the "small group" was distilled down to one—Shelan. The idea of his being a test subject and a relative of Cloud's just somehow grew from the early notes and scenes of the story. As for the Turks, I didn't want Lucrecia to run into Vincent _too_ early in the story—and besides, it seemed unlikely they'd take along only one bodyguard for at least three scientists.

4. Actually, there is only one room in the Nibelheim inn. Even if all the Turks shared a room, after counting all the possible lodging space in the Shinra Mansion and the inn, I still fell short by one room. They must have remodeled, somehow…? Heh.

5. The equipment in the lab doesn't match the equipment shown in the flashback. _Give me a break,_ the stuff in the game looks like an old horror movie. :p And also, the "cabinet" thing that Lucrecia works with a lot in chapters 1-3 and 1-7 is based on what's called a cell-culture hood, but I knew no one would know the terminology; so I just called it a cabinet. It worked. Also, some of the science in the story is real and some is fake-just to be MORE confusing… We see glimpses of real cell culture and genetics practices applied to nonexistent cells and viruses, basically. The practices are loosely based on my training in college, although that is where any resemblance to reality ends. (And no, Hojo wasn't based on anyone! Eesh. He's a conglomerate of fears / archetypes and a product of his own attitude. See the characterization/inspiration notes at my page for more on where this very strange characterization came from…)

6. The names of the trees on the Mansion grounds are made up, because I know next to nothing about botany. And besides, it's safe to assume that the FFVII world doesn't have all the same species as this one.

7. Yes, Shelan's last name is Strife. Shelan's little brother Stratus-named in chapter 3-7-is Cloud's father. He is only in his teens during this story. Cloud's relatives are never said to be connected to Shinra. Heck, Cloud's relatives are barely mentioned _at all._ (His mother appears in two short scenes, and his father is said to have died when Cloud was young.) Why this weird little addition? It was fun, basically, and added some more twists to the conspiracy theory. It sets up yet another parallel between the present and the past, and casts a kind of blood-feud dimension on the already complicated Cloud/Sephiroth animosity. Read on for its connection to Shinra's experimentation…

8. Mt. Nibel is much prettier in this story than it is in the game, where it is an alien, gnarled, gray mass of spikes. This is an indirect reference to the effect that the new-during-the-story Nibelheim Reactor, over the course of the next thirty years, drained the land of its energy and warped it into the ugly and very dangerous place it is in Cloud's time. 

9. About the Crystal Room, and the present-day Vincent in general. Reviewing the original script, I felt compelled to explain what seemed to be a major unexplained point: why did Lucrecia / Lucrecia's spirit appear where it did, in a nearly inaccessible cavern in the middle of nowhere? Since I'm more likely to believe it's Lucrecia's spirit (more on that later), I figured that it had to be a place to which she and Vincent had strong emotional attachments, perhaps the site of an important event in their lives. My first idea was to make it a concert hall (alluded to in 1-6), but the idea of a Shinra party seemed more interesting. So, I concocted the Nibarel (_Nib_elheim + Co_rel_, the two cities nearby) Crystal Room, a banquet hall co-owned by Shinra and Dio, "an up-and-coming entertainment mogul". (In my original notes I mentioned that the Gold Saucer had just been built, much smaller than its present form. The mention, like many other details-such as the presence at the party of President Shinra's wife, Rufus' mother-never made it into the final draft.) The attack by the rebels served a few functions: first, to follow up the Turk shooting in Corel (1-6); second, to explain why Nibelheim had a reactor so much earlier than Corel (which got one during Barret's lifetime, twenty-five or so years later); third, to cement the place in Lucrecia's memory (if you'll notice, she meets him in the entryway, where he'd told her to meet him thirty years ago-I know it's copped from FFVIII, but did anyone notice? No. ;) ) …and lastly, to explain why it's no longer in use when Cloud & Co. arrive.

I also felt compelled to explain the present-day Vincent, in general. I liked the idea that the details of the character had some basis in the past. This came into play in two sections of the story. First, during the party, I set up most of his present taste in clothes. Apart from the metal shoes (what are those, anyway?) and the straps holding the cloak together, his clothes are traced to two sources in the party: most of his outfit is black dress clothes, like the ones Vincent wore to the ball; the red cloak, believe it or not, is Lucrecia's. The hood was shot apart by one of the rebels, and though it was big enough to wrap her up completely, on Vincent it would probably look smaller. I realize that this approaches the psychotic, but given Vincent's near-obsession with his lost love, it seemed to make some kind of sense.

The other part of the story that alludes to Vincent's future form is the business of the ring, in 2-9 and afterward. Vincent wore Lucrecia's engagement ring on his left hand, which may or may not have led to Hojo's amputating his left arm. At the very least, it explains what happened to the ring… (One way or another, it would make sense that Vincent would keep it, but it never shows up again in the flashback or on his personage.)

10. In chapter 2-4, Lucrecia runs some genetic tests to tell whether her mutated cells are closer to Cetra than human, and it alludes that there is a genetic difference between human and Ancient. Actually, I'm more inclined to believe that this isn't true; after all, Aeris was both human and Cetra. If two creatures can interbreed successfully, by definition they are the same species: therefore, Cetra can at most be only a subspecies of humans. So it's the unofficial explanation that Shinra's reasoning, and the reasoning behind Lucrecia's earlier experiments, was wrong. (On the other hand, if Aeris were sterile, as happens with some interspecies hybrids—like mules—all bets are off. But I guess we'll never know. …My apologies to Aeris fans for that mule analogy…)

11. It's never said that Hojo experimented on adults or even animals before trying to create Sephiroth, as far as I know. It just seemed to follow: Hojo was trying to make a Cetra. He would probably have started on adults, and when that didn't work, decided to use an unborn child (fetal cells are much more changeable, so in the story it's likely they would adapt to Jenova cells more readily than an adult's cells.) Shelan started out on the SOLDIER protocol, injected with Jenova cells and Mako. Hojo would remember the process in case it ever became useful...which, as it turns out, it did. Shelan is in a sense a proto-clone, in the sense that "clone" is used in the game. The process toward the end is even more involved; read the notes on chapter 3-8 for that explanation.

12. The war. This bothered me for a while; it was basically a mistake. In chapter 1-8, a "war" is mentioned, although the war between Wutai and Shinra (the one that killed Elmyra's husband) has not yet happened. My theory, after realizing this, is that the two powers have had some skirmishes, which they called a war, but the bigger war is yet to come. This is also alluded to in Elmyra and Lucrecia's last phone call, when Elmyra tells of her husband's fear of being sent off to war, and in 3-4 during the reception. (I also assumed that SOLDIER did not yet exist, although the Turks do…*sighs*) The REAL Wutai/Shinra war takes place just after the events of the story, or possibly parallel to the end of the story; it is because of this war that Elmyra and Reece's wedding was rushed, so that they might be married before he could be shipped away. (This was only briefly mentioned during 3-4, if anyone noticed.)

13. The full roll call of Hojo's sneaky deeds, for those of you who were paying attention: Listened in on Lucrecia and Shelan in the lab (1-3). Kidnapped Shelan and treated him with Mako and Jenova cells (somewhere after 1-4). Destroyed note from Midgar, reporting Shelan missing (1-7). Falsified Lucrecia's test results (2-4) - if you'll notice, the samples are in tracks 1, 3, 5, and 7 when Lucrecia starts the test, but on the results Hojo gives her they appear in 1, 2, 3, and 4. Issued falsified or changed assignment to Dr. Gast and the Turks, getting rid of Vincent for the week in which Lucrecia makes the fatal deal (2-5). Subjected Lucrecia to Mako and J-cell overdose, falsifying his original plan (2-5; 3-1 and following). Subjected Shelan to Mako and Jenova overdose, as well as channeling raw Mako through him in the Nibelheim reactor (1-5 and onward, most notably in 3-8).

14. Just in case you may have noticed, Lucrecia's thought in 2-5, "_Dr. Gast…the Project is dead…_", was in fact modeled after the line in the game when Vincent tells Lucrecia about Sephiroth. No real reason, except some parallel.

15. What does Lucrecia's Cetra dream (2-7) mean? I'm not completely sure myself. It's definitely a sign of misgiving about the pregnancy, and a foreshadowing of her son's murder of the last Ancient. It also foreshadows the present-day Vincent, as he appears in her dream with long hair, red eyes, and a red cloak. There is also a common thread between Lucrecia and the Cetra woman in that both fell in love with socially unacceptable men (the Cetra with an unrespected adventurer and Lucrecia with a Turk).

16. Lucrecia and Hojo. It's assumed they actually were making out in the flashback. I just couldn't go through with that, given Hojo's portrayal in this story. I tried at first to figure out reasons why Lucrecia would fall for that weasel…and although I thought of a few more or less acceptable reasons, I couldn't get enough to build my story on, and eventually gave up. Hence the case of mistaken identity at the gate, and the artificial creation of Sephiroth.

Having said this, I'm still curious about the whole thing; although I made Hojo out to be irredeemably mean in this fic, I enjoy other takes on the story. (Such flights of fancy aren't strictly non-canon, since the canon is very vague on this topic.) A short fanfic I wrote, "The Logic of Grief", takes the triangle from one such a take, in which an enigmatic Lucrecia and a misguided but not yet evil Hojo were married; the piece turned out to be one of my favorites out of my own stories. A few gamers even think that Vincent's affection wasn't returned-which would also be an interesting case, given his thirty-year adherence to the idea.

Did Hojo love Lucrecia? I'm not completely sure, actually. As portrayed in this story, Hojo is too far removed from any notion of real human affection to love her in any honest way. He says he's sealed off most of his emotions ("Everything else died, more or less"), and although in some subconscious way he may have some feelings for her, they are buried under heaps of maliciousness, callousness and misanthropy. He seems to admire her intelligence and potential-perhaps he fears them, for at the start she does intend to replace him. But he only openly finds her attractive when she is vulnerable, weakened or unguarded; this seemed to be a likely pattern, given his predatory/exploitative behavior in general, and his tendency toward inferiority complexes (a weak woman won't be able to overshadow him). Some undercurrent of sexual menace does run through some of his scenes (most notably in 2-8/9 and the second part of 3-3 - one of my favorite scenes in this story, for varying reasons.) If you noticed it, bravo; this is intentional. Beyond giving some more depth of a sort to the character, it racked up the tension between Hojo and Lucrecia considerably-and, let's not forget, made those scenes a lot more creepy…

17. Who is Sephiroth's father? I don't know. I really don't. Since Lucrecia slept with Vincent the night before she was artificially inseminated by Hojo (yeeee…eesss, it's true, though it's not in the story proper), it could be either. The story is deliberately ambiguous on this endlessly debated point… Vincent says he's not Sephiroth's father in the epilogue, but this is an assumption on Vincent's part. (Technically, he says that he thinks he's not Seph's father.) NOW do you know why I don't like Seph/Vin yaoi, people? And speaking of Vincentric yaoi, the official stance of "Devotion" on the Hojo/Vin slash is a negative. There is ample tension between the two, but it wasn't intended to imply buried attraction. You'll have to go to "The Logic of Grief" for that, which is intentionally ambiguous on that endlessly debated point.

18. Hojo's lab. The treatments could easily have been done in the main lab, where Hojo experimented on Vincent in the flashback, but it fit into the story to have some hidden experiments going on. The room is the same as the room where Vincent is entombed years later, although by that time it has been completely destroyed—probably to destroy evidence of his unethical testing.

19. While we're on the subject of labs and unethical testing, the specialties of Gast and Hojo were never actually mentioned in canon. In "Devotion" Gast is an anthropologist (the study of cultures and humanity) and Hojo a physiologist (chemical/biochemical processes, hormones, and other nonanatomical workings of biology). These are basically made up to fit their roles in the story, though they also give the Project a bit of interesting variety—adding Lucrecia (genetics and cell biology) and Shelan (chemistry/biochemistry), they had quite a range of researchers. This also means that Hojo was probably operating out of his sphere with most of his experiments, which is not altogether surprising.

20. The Ancients and the "real" story of Jenova, narrated by Shelan in Interlude 2. This is drawn from what I remember from the game (discounting Hojo's records in Nibelheim, which in the game are said to be falsified) and from the "Jenova is Lucrecia" theory I read online, dreamed up by Mad Tinkerer, formerly of the Final Fantasy: Worlds Apart message board. The idea always intrigued me, and I incorporated one part of it into the story: that the "crisis from the sky" was not the Jenova that Cloud fights, but an interplanetary virus.

21. The voice in Lucrecia's head. This was drawn from one of the (unofficial?) powers of Jenova cells, as seen in the game: telepathy between Jenova carriers. Sephiroth controlled the clones and Cloud through this psychic connection, and similarly, Lucrecia and Shelan, the only two human Jenova carriers at the time, became able to hear each other's thoughts. All of the odd or interjected thoughts throughout section 3, as well as her sensations of drowning and nightmares (except the Cetra dream in 2-7) actually belong to the Ancients or to Shelan; her recurrent dreams of drowning are due to Shelan's imprisonment in a tank of liquid Mako. If you'll notice, she tends to hear these things in the labs, which are closer to where Shelan is imprisoned; during the trip to Midgar (3-5) she hears nothing at all.

22. During 3-3, when Lucrecia falls asleep during the treatments and she and Hojo have that odd half-argument about why she loves Vincent, Hojo's most crucial sentence fragment goes like this: "_And he's hardly…" The voice trailed off into nothing, leaving the sentence forever unspoken._

The rest of the thought is "…worthy of you." Just to clarify. This is the closest Hojo ever gets to expressing some sort of honest emotion. (See point 16.) This exchange is one reason why the second half of 3-3 ranks as one of my favorite scenes in the story. (That's the part when Lucrecia, exhausted from working on her reports, gets her last Mako treatment before the trip to Midgar, and as she lies in a half-hallucinatory daze, she and Hojo argue about her love for Vincent.) I think wrote that scene under severe sleep deprivation, and it probably shows, but I do like how it came out.

23. Cetra Etymology: Sephirisena / Jenova / Sephiroth / Sephiaera. This is made up, I'll admit. I tried to make it look real, but it's mine. ;) "Sephirisena" is a pseudo-Cetra word for "crisis from the sky". It was made to sound like "Sephiroth" for a reason, as explained later in the story. I know that "Sephiroth" actually means "word of God", and comes from the Kabbalah originally. However, it seemed like an anachronism to me to have this meaning used in the story; the story-world doesn't have the same history or cultures as Earth, and so would never have heard of the original meaning; the Kabbalah never existed in this fictional world. What's more, it seemed odd to trace a Hebrew etymology into a fictional culture (Cetra) with its own language. So, with many apologies, I made up a more in-character origin for the name.

"Jenova", on the other hand, retained its literal meaning: "New God". This was done for two reasons. First, it fit well with the Shinra's misguided view of Jenova; since it wouldn't make sense that the Cetra would name their destroyer something as positive as "New God" (unless they thought at first that it was benevolent - but that's another story), it was said that the Shinra (or modern society, by extension) renamed the creature. The name still has Earth (Latin?) etymology, but this seems to make more sense; the language the Shinra and the rest of the world speaks is for all intents and purposes an Earth language. In a way, half-accidentally, it also underscores the feeling that their society is more like Earth's; it is the Cetra who seem alien or fantastic.

As if that weren't enough, the Cetra-influenced prayers in Elmyra's wedding include the word _Sephiaera,_ which translates as "heaven's love": sephii = sky, or heaven in a Christianity-like religion; aera = love. And yes, that is reverse-engineered from Aeris' name, which would translate from Cetra as something like "beloved". It seemed fitting to slip something like this in, setting up Dr. Gast's naming of his only daughter. (Even during the story, Gast is a scholar of Cetra language and lore.)

At the end of the meeting with the Shinra in 3-5, Gast recites a fragment of Cetra poetry, also entirely made up: "_Alei, tsekine dhelar, sete a'masii maci-en._" - "Thus, faced with madness, died all the world's glory." It's reverse-translated into Cetra only loosely, allowing for an undefined syntax in the language, but the words align something like: _dhelar_ - insanity (literally "dhel" - "insane" and a noun-making suffix similar to "-ness"); _a'masii_ - "of the world", from _masii_, earth and/or life and/or soul (all related words); and _maci-en_, "lifeless", from a word related to masii (life) and a negating prefix. (Cetra in this story has no word for "dead" proper, just "lifeless". This seemed to fit with their philosophy/religion.)

Sephiroth's name is slightly mangled pseudo-Cetra, as explained in the story; the etymology follows thus: _sephii_, seen in _sephiaera_, loosely means "from or of heaven"; the word for "silver" is _rossa_. Thus, if Sephiroth were a girl he would be named Sephirossa; "Sephiroth" was a masculinization of the word on Lucrecia's part.

The crafting of Sephiroth's name takes on a little bittersweetness when you consider that it's really a beautiful name in that explanation; he was named "heaven's silver" by his mother for his hair color as well as his unearthly aura and, honestly, how much he meant to her at that moment. Yet, it became a symbol of dread later in his life…

More fake Cetra, which hasn't been sorted into the narrative, includes a pseudo etymology of "Mako", which is a Shinra shortening of the Cetra word for Lifestream, _masikoura_, literally "river of souls". (That also lines up with the alternate spelling "Makou". Ta-dah.) The word was borrowed somewhat to name Cloud's grandmother and Shelan's mother, Koura Strife.

24. Elmyra's wedding. The overwhelming amount of green in the décor is intentional. Green is the color of Lifestream and would no doubt be seen as holy to the Cetra. The story-world's present-day religion is vaguely Judeo-Christian but retains many facets of Cetra beliefs, including terminology and, as seen here, the common use of green.

25. Vincent's past! I couldn't help the slightest reference to it in 3-4. I'm trying to keep it minimal, to keep from derailing this story, and so that I could possibly develop it into a small fic someday. ;) But basically, in this version (for there are countless fics about Vincent's past, all speculative) he is originally from Wutai, from a modestly well-off family. During a trip to Midgar to visit his father's family, when Vincent was around five, his mother fell or was pushed into the path of an oncoming train and killed. His father never left Midgar after that, and squandered the family's small fortune trying to assuage his grief by tracking down someone "responsible". This alienated young Vincent, leading to his comments to the effect that all the love he knew as a child was gone, and leading also to his intense desire to rebuild some semblance of domestic tranquility—which he missed in childhood.

26. Most of the members of the Shinra council in 3-5 are just crafted to fill spaces in the Shinra heirarchy. There are traces, however, of a continuum between Conrad Shinra Jr., Conrad Shinra III (the canon President Shinra), and Rufus Shinra's respective cabinets. (Incidentally, the name "Conrad Shinra" is made-up. The President's first name is never given.) Most of the names were adapted from suggestions given to me by an online acquaintance, Davey Boy. Davidson Sith's name has a different source: in writing the quick scene between the receptionist and the average harried Shinra worker, the first names that jumped to mind were "Dave" and "Steve". Hoping to avoid an accidental Kevin Smith reference ("Tell 'em, Steve-Dave!" ^_^; ), I changed "Steve" to "Clark". Dave, however, remained. In a bid to make the name more strange and FFVII-ey, I made it a short form of "Davidson". His original last name was "Sithe", with a long I, but that looked so similar to "Sith" that I just changed it anyway. Cait Sith _is_ named after a Celtic myth, but in-character, who knows if he may have been inspired by another member of Shinra?

The story's most alarming glitch struck in the first draft of this chapter when I realized that I'd left out one of the departments: Manufacturing. This led to a reshuffling of the heirarchy, assigning Manufacturing and Weapons to one department. The story goes that after this point, control of one of the branches was taken from the unfavored department chairman and split off into its own department. (Whew.)

27. Cloud's family: This was set up to preface Shelan's discovery a little while later and to bridge Shelan and Cloud, basically. A while before writing this I polled a FF message board I went to for names for Cloud's father and grandparents, but I lost all record of the names they suggested and had to wing it. Ouch.

28. Just a question: Did anyone catch the Jenova-cell overdose before it was explained? In the treatment scenes, try watching the Mako drip (if I did it correctly). The solution is almost transparently green at the start, but at the end it's "opaque" - more and more Jenova cells are being added (Mako, as seen in the game, is actually translucent). The devil's in the details, ladies and gentlemen… ;) Other "Hugely Observant Reader" points go to tracing exactly what the heck the Jenova doses earlier in the story referred to (they DID refer to specific things, for the most part), what humans the mice corresponded to as far as dosage and behavior, and the precognition Lucrecia has of Vincent's future form and her son's fate. No, I won't ask you to find Waldo next. ^_~

29. Shelan's fate. Just in case you were wondering, yes, that's the tank where Cloud was held during the game. And his hands were clawlike for a reason: if anyone noticed, one of the nightmares Lucrecia has in 3-9 while awaiting Sephiroth's birth is about being trapped in some sort of Mako-filled machine. This is intended to be one of the containment pods in the Nibelheim reactor, where Hojo, as seen in the Nibelheim flashback, transformed people into monsters by heavily overdosing them on Mako and Jenova cells. I took a little liberty with the idea by going the further step that the Reactor is sucking Lifestream straight through the test subjects' bodies, which would be a debilitating process. So… unfortunately… Shelan ultimately would end up as one of those unfortunate monsters that Sephiroth breaks out of the pods as he toured the Reactor with Zack (Cloud, in the flashback, but that's another story).

30. Does Lucrecia die or become Jenova as we know it?… I left this open intentionally, too. The scientists were studying Jenova _cells_, not the Jenova _body_, but since Lucrecia (and we) never know what happens after the end, it could go either way.

31. Yes, the entire epilogue is conjecture. Actually, it was written at the same time as Interlude 1, with only a few changes afterward.

  
  


Well, that's it. Thanks to the readers of FF.N, www.ffwa.org, and the other sites which hosted this story during its writing, as well as everyone who gave comments and criticism - it really does help. Thanks for reading. (And I really mean that. ;) )

  



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